OneUpmanship
by Thought
Summary: In which Abigail Sciuto and Ziva David attempt to fix each other.
1. Chapter 1

One-upmanship

By: Thought

Disclaimer: Nope!

A/N: So, this has been playing around in my head for about a week now, and I finally was able to get the first chapter down tonight. Updates will be sporadic, as this fic requires a very specific mood to be able to write it, but each part is all planned out in my lj, so it will be finished. And reviews make my day.

Oh, and just so everyone's clear, I? LOVE Ziva. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Kate's character really, I just think that Ziva's a much more interesting character, and I also love Cote de Pablo's acting. Yes. That is all.

Summary: Abigail Sciuto and Ziva David try to make each other something better. Ziva/Abby, Gibbs/Abby, with McGee lusting after Ziva as comic relief.

Part One: In which Abby isn't quite frozen.

XXX

Heavy sheets of rain pelted down on her as she bolted inside HQ, waving her I.D absently at the guard at the front desk. He'd only stop her if he were new, and they hadn't had a new guard in the last three years. It was dark outside, lightning the only illumination, the moon being obscured by bloated black clouds that hung in the sky with all the grace of turtles yet all the ambivalence of an axe murderer. No one was in the office at three-thirty AM, and she was glad that there wasn't anyone to see her, rushing through the halls, her hair down, her black skirt and fishnet shirt soaked through from the rain, her makeup running all over the place. Her heals clicked on the tiles of the hall that lead to her lab, and the many rings on her fingers felt tight and constricting as she worked the key in the door.

She fell into her computer chair gratefully, pressing the heals of her palms into her eyes, breathing deeply. She had been out, at some bar or another with some people that she kinda sorta might have known at one point when a breakthrough on the current case had struck her over the head with a large and very hard hammer. She had run the twelve blocks to the NCIS building, not trusting herself to drive, and thanking any god that cared to listen for the treadmill she kept in her apartment that allowed her to run that far without collapsing. Sucking in lungfuls of air, she turned to her computer, and began to type furiously. She spun her chair, and wheeled over to a microscope, shoving a slide under the lens and leaning closer.

"Why the hell didn't I run a drug scan earlier?" she breathed, noting every discoloration in the blood that she hadn't been able to identify that afternoon. She had run a battery of tests, however hadn't bothered to check for drug use, as their victim had seemed in perfect health, according to Ducky. Moving over to another piece of equipment, she carefully placed a blood sample down in it's proper spot, and began the test, sitting back, waiting for the results. Behind her, the door opened. Not even looking up, she said "Our vic was a crackhead, Gibbs. I just thought of it now, I'm sorry. I don't know why it didn't cross my mind to check before now, and—"

"As much as that does interest me, I'm not exactly Gibbs," an amused voice spoke from directly behind her. She jerked upright, spinning, almost colliding with the person behind her.

"What the hell are you doing!" she demanded irritably, seeing the identity of her unknown visitor and relaxing marginally.

Ziva David folded her hands behind her back and watched Abby, hints of a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "I could ask you the same question."

"I just got in," Abby muttered. "Had a thought while I was out, thought I'd check it out."

Ziva nodded. "I haven't left yet. I was rerunning the keyword search on McFadon's email correspondence, trying to see if there's anything that McGee and I missed the first time."

Abby nodded. "And I care why?"

"I was just leaving, and one of the night patrollers asked me 'why Miss Sciuto was running down the corridor like a bat out of hell dressed like a hooker from a bad porn movie and looking like her mother just died'. Naturally, my curiosity was perked."

"Peaked," Abby corrected automatically. "And nothing's wrong, but it's kind of raining outside, if you hadn't noticed, and I came twelve blocks through it to get here, so of course my makeup's all runny."

"Ziva held up her hands. "I was just quoting him."

"I bet it was Stan," Abby muttered.

Ziva arched an eyebrow. "You're on a first name basis with the night patrollers?"

"Yeah. Don't you know? True geeks get their best work done at night."

Ziva blinked. "Geek?"

Abby quickly backtracked. "Never mind. Gods, McGee's rubbing off on me."

This only seemed to serve the purpose of further confusing the other woman. "So, you're running a drug test on the blood?" she asked.

Abby nodded. "Yeah. I figure that might have caused some of the discoloration, I mean, if the white blood cells were being killed off trying to defend the body against some sort of harmful substance…"

There was a click, and Abby heard the horrifying sound of her computer shutting down. All the lights went out, and they were left in total darkness. "Fuck!" Abby screamed, jumping out of her chair and trying to find her tox scanner in the darkness to see if it would run on back-up-generator power. She hit her knee on something sharp, and swore violently as it began to throb. She was completely disoriented, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the three drinks she had consumed before coming might also have something to do with that fact.

Strong hands caught her upper arms, running up until they held her shoulders. "Abby, calm down."

"Get off of me!" Abby snarled, her hatred of the other woman coming out full force. She tried to struggle away from her firm hold, but Ziva was much stronger than her, and she eventually gave up, standing very still.

"Are you done?" the other woman asked dryly. Abby didn't answer, feeling very much like a petulant child being restrained by a parent. Ziva released her, but kept a hand resting on her shoulder, leaving Abby with no allusions of what the results of her trying to bolt would be.

"We need to get out of here and to somewhere where there's some light. You can run the test tomorrow, and stumbling around in the dark isn't going to help anything."

Abby hated her for making so much sense, and being so logical at a time when she, herself, would like nothing more than to rip her head off.

Ziva began moving, keeping a hold on Abby, forcing her to follow along, in full keeping with the child metaphor. Abby was about to ask, snidely, just how Ziva knew where the doors were in the pitch blackness, when she found herself being guided out into the hallway, where emergency lighting provided an eerie red glow to everything around them. A tall man, whom Abby recognized as Marc, another night patroller, moved towards them through the bloody red landscape.

"There's been a power outage. If you would both please exit the building as quickly as possible, I'll take you down to the garage."

"We are capable of walking by ourselves," Ziva said patronizingly.

Marc puffed his chest, trying to make himself look important. "With all due respect, Ma'am, it's NCIS protocol, I have to escort you directly from the building in the case of a power outage, for your security, and that of NCIS, in case you were to use the lack of lights and alarms to perform any criminal actions."

Abby smirked at Ziva's slightly offended expression, and gave Marc a thumbs up. They all began walking toward the garage, and Abby fell back to walk in step with Marc.

"So, when ya think the power's gonna be back on?"

"I don't know, Ma'am. The storm's pretty violent, so I'd guess we're going to be down for at least an hour."

"How many times do I need to tell you to call me Abby?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"NCIS will be down until the morning, anyway, until we can check over everything and make sure nothing was done to endanger employee security," he ignored her last statement.

"Thank God my lab's only a floor above the garage," Abby commented, staring at the seemingly endless flights of stairs above them as they descended. Marc laughed.

"Well, have a nice night," he said politely once they entered the garage.

"Thanks," Abby called after him. Ziva didn't comment. It wasn't until Marc had left back up the stairs that Abby realized she had left her car at the bar. Deciding that there was no way on Earth she was relating this little bit of information to Ziva, Abby made as if to walk down the rows of parking stalls, hoping that Ziva wouldn't want to stick around.

"Abby." She stopped, turning around, looking questioningly at Ziva, who was leaning against her car, watching her.

"Yeah?"

She made a gesture at the car. "My car's right here. Passenger door should be unlocked."

Abby blinked. She tried to formulate an answer, but nothing came to mind. Ziva pushed off the side of the car, and walked over to her, lightly shoving her toward the passenger side of the vehicle.

Feeling unnerved and awkward, Abby obediently opened the door and hopped in, leaning back in the soft leather interior happily. Ziva came around to the other side, settling down and starting the ignition.

"Nice car," Abby said finally, not sure what else was appropriate for the situation. Ziva shrugged slightly, turning the key and making the machine make a delightful little purr.

They pulled out into the downpour, and Abby shivered, remembering what it was like to be outside in that. The sheets of rain fell, making the buildings and other vehicles outside of her window nothing more than faint ghostly outlines against the blackness of the night.

Another flash of lightning lit up the world in a cruelly stark whiteness, momentarily blinding her. By the time she regained her vision, the crashing thunder was exploding overhead with all the force of the gods. She wrapped her arms around herself, and leaned her forehead against the window, the cold glass against her cold skin just adding to her general feeling of being frozen inside the storm.

"No streetlights. People can't drive," Ziva commented. Abby heard her as if through a thick fog, her mind focused on the cold and the white and the rhythmic pounding of the rain on the hood of the car. Big round droplets of rain hit the pavement with such frequency that they created their own little spray, car tires adding to the waterfall effect as the water jetted back up from it's impact with the pavement. Abby couldn't feel her body, as if she were being tugged outside into the storm, her consciousness being divided into a billion little drops of water to hit the pavement and spray in every direction imaginable.

She didn't realize the car had stopped moving until Ziva forcibly grabbed her chin and forced her around to look at her. Abby came out of her trans-like state slowly, and when she realized what was happening, jerked her head back so quickly that it struck the glass of the window. She released a breath, and watched as it crystallized in the air, and wondered how long they must have been stopped for the heat to so utterly leave them.

"Don't do that," Ziva said quietly, no anger, just a simple statement. "It's dangerous to go that deep into your own mind."

Abby shivered, not from the cold, which she had become immune to, but from the dead quality of Ziva's voice as she said those words. It was as if she had been out in the storm so many times that her entire soul had been frozen by the cold, and shattered against the pavement as it fell with the rain and hale.

"Where are we?" Abby asked, finally.

"I'm feeding you."

Abby blinked. "Nothing's—"

"Denny's. You don't have to live here long to know it's always open."

Abby nodded, agreeing. "You don't have to, I mean, I'm fine…"

Ziva held up a hand. "Shh. Get out." Abby nodded, too tired and numb to fight.

They walked through the rain, getting utterly soaked in the process. Inside, the restaurant was quiet, nothing more than a few nightshift cops and doctors talking quietly amongst themselves, and the clink of knives and forks against cheep china. The radio was tuned to an easy listening station, that reminded Abby of elevator music.

The hostess barely gave them a second glance when they entered, dripping and silent, like two rates sent as messengers of the storm itself, merely jerking her head in the direction of a wide expanse of empty tables. Abby picked a booth, and Ziva followed without complaint.

"You don't want to die," Ziva said as soon as they sat down. Abby glanced up.

"No, not really."

"Then wear your seatbelt when we get back in the car."

The ridiculousness of the order struck her, and she released a semi-hysterical little giggle. And then, the utter unbelievability of her entire situation came crashing down on her, and she leaned back in the booth, shaking with silent laughter.

Ziva merely watched, seeming to understand what Abby was going through. Finally, when her laughs had settled down, Abby looked up at Ziva. "I hate you," she told her, in all seriousness.

Ziva inclined her head, and reached out across the table, taking Abby's hands in both of hers, and Abby realized that no matter how cold she felt, Ziva was pure ice.

"I here the pasta's good," she told her, even as she tightened her grip on the other woman's hands. Ziva smiled at the non sequitur.

"You're not ordering coffee?"

Abby laughed, interlocking her fingers with Ziva's. "That comes later. Besides, I think I'm too numb to dream tonight, anyway."

Ziva looked away. "That… It isn't a good thing, Abby. No matter how horrible your dreams, they still allow you to feel something."

Abby watched her for a long few minutes. Finally she tugged on her hands gently to get her attention. "I'll try if you try," she told her. "Because I think no matter how frozen something is, it can always be unthawed one little bit at a time."

XXX

TBC…


	2. Part 2

One-Upmanship

By: Thought

Part Two: In which Abby kidnaps Ziva.

XXX

"It wasn't accidental drug overdose at all," Ducky murmured, studying his own report with disgust. Gibbs, Abby, Tony, McGee and Ziva stood around him in a semi-circle, all waiting silently for the ME to vocalize whatever was on his mind.

Without looking up he asked, "Abigail, did you say that the drug used was Heroin?"

"Yeah," Abby nodded.

"Now why on Earth was there no sign of drug use?" Ducky asked rhetorically. Ziva watched Gibbs' facial muscles tighten as he clenched his jaw, and prepared for the explosion. She didn't have to wait long.

"Could you two possibly explain how a man dies of drug overdose without showing any sign of actually ingesting the drug!"

"Well, technically it did appear in the blood," Abby interjected.

"So there is evidence?" Gibbs asked.

"No," Ducky shook his head. "Use of any drug always causes some sort of physical evidence on the user's internal organs, or, of course, in the case of injected narcotics, on the outside of the user as well."

"There's also usually a chemical imbalance in the brain," Abby added. "Which our guy did not have."

Tony looked sickened. "You tested his _brain fluid?_" he asked in revulsion.

"Uh huh," Abby nodded absently, bouncing on her heals, obviously trying to figure out the puzzling problem presented to them.

"And you knew about the drugs because of the discoloration of the blood?" McGee asked.

"Exactly, Timothy," Ducky nodded.

"Perhaps a new sort of drug?" Ziva suggested, shrugging helplessly.

"You'd still have the imbalance," Abby said without looking at her. "It just wouldn't work. Besides, I ran a full check on the drug. It's definitely heroin."

"Well that's just great," Gibbs muttered, taking a long sip from his coffee.

"Hey, Boss?" Tony said hesitantly. "It's already two-thirty, and none of us have had lunch yet. Um, do you think it'd be okay if we went for lunch now? Maybe get a fresh view on things when we come back?"

Ziva had fully been expecting the older man to refuse, so it took her a moment to realize that he had given a short nod and turned away, striding out of autopsy without a backward glance.

"Well, that was fun," McGee muttered. Tony smirked, and tossed an arm around the younger agent, grinning.

"Let's say you and me go grab a bite, Proby," he suggested genially. Ziva stared at him as if he had lost his mind, which seemed to be McGee's general consensus as well if the look on his face was anything to go by.

"Sure, Tony," he said uncertainly, trailing helplessly after the overly-boisterous man with obvious trepidation. Ziva turned to Ducky, where he still stood studying the chart.

"Doctor, do you think it could have been a substitute drug? Something made to have all the same chemical properties of heroin, but just changed enough not to have the same affect on the user?"

Ducky frowned in thought. "Please do call me Ducky. And no, as Abby said, it would be quite difficult to fake something as critical as a substances chemical makeup. There are all of the chemicals that must be balanced, and also a great deal of precision required in doing so. Why, I remember a time in Bulgaria, of all places, where I came across a poor fellow—"

"Hey, Ducky," Abby spoke from almost directly behind Ziva. "Mind if I steal her?"

"Oh, not at all, Abby," Ducky nodded, smiling.

"Thanks," Abby said, lightly resting a hand on Ziva's shoulder. It was the first time that the agent realized that the lab tech had a good two inches on her in the height department.

"Enjoy your lunch, you two," Ducky said kindly, turning away and walking towards his office.

"You're stealing me?" Ziva asked dryly.

She felt Abby's small laugh as much as she heard it through her contact with the other woman. "More like kidnapping, I suppose."

"I thought you hated me. Should I be scared?" Ziva turned, taking a step back so that she faced the Goth girl.

"Meh. Only if you've got an intense phobia of restaurants that you haven't told me about."

Ziva blinked. "Abby—"

Abby held up a hand, silencing her. "Shhh. Hey, you treated me last night… no, wait, I guess that was this morning. Sorry about that. Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

Ziva shrugged. "A bit."

Abby nodded. "Sorry. Anyway. It's my turn."

"What I did. That wasn't something that you should feel obligated to repay," Ziva tried to explain herself. She knew without a doubt that they weren't only talking about the food.

"Aren't I the kidnapper, here? When'd this turn into a debate?" Abby grabbed her hand and pulled her along with her out of the doors. Ziva shrugged and trailed along in amusement at Abby's determination.

They descended in the elevator to the garage in silence, and Ziva shifted uncomfortably in the small carriage. When they hit the bottom, Abby skipped out of the elevator, and directly to Ziva's car. She smiled her most beguiling smile at the agent, and looked with obvious longing at the driver's side door.

"No," Ziva said, fearing what Abby would do with her new vehicle.

"Pleeeeaaaasssseeee," Abby whined, in an excellent approximation of a child. Ziva stared at her, bouncing in place, pigtails swinging and coal lined eyes staring pitifully at her from under long lashes.

Sighing, she reached into her pocket and tossed the keys at Abby, who caught them deftly and slipped into the car. Ziva sat down on the other side, feeling strange as a passenger in her own vehicle.

"What's wrong with your car?" she asked.

Abby blushed. "Well, you know how you kinda drove me home last night, and I just said I'd get a friend to bring my car over this morning?"

"Yeah?" Ziva frowned at her.

"I guess I wasn't exactly legally parked last night, and I got a call this morning telling me that my car had been towed and impounded."

Ziva sighed. "And?"

Abby shrugged. "I'll get it back when I have time. No big deal." She turned the key, bringing the car to life.

Ziva sighed. "How did you get to work this morning?" she asked.

"Bus," Abby pulled out of the garage.

"And is there a chance that you would explain to me how you got the fifteen blocks from your apartment building to the nearest bus stop in freezing cold weather on the streets of downtown DC?"

"Yes, I did walk," Abby snapped. "No, I didn't get hypothermia, nor did I get raped, mugged or murdered!" She slammed down on the accelerator, speeding out and across the outdoors parking lot and into traffic.

Ziva fell back in her seat, wincing. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to imply—"

Abby held up a hand. "No, no, it's all good. Forget about it." She reached forward, punching the on button for the radio, filling the car with the music of Ziva's newest CD.

"I've got your mind, I said; she said I've your voice." the woman sang softly from the speakers, piano her only accompaniment. Ziva blushed, and made to turn off the song, but Abby stopped her.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God," she said, slowly. "You listen to Tori Amos!"

Ziva nodded. Abby let out a very Abby-like squeal, and flipped forward through the songs, turning up the volume on song seven. Ziva let out a laugh.

"I should have known this would be your favorite," she said.

Abby grinned, giving her a thumbs up. Ziva leaned back in her seat, watching the scenery fly by at an alarming rate and feeling relaxed for the first time that day.

"But I believe in peace, bitch."

XXX

When they pulled up outside the restaurant, Ziva wasn't surprised that she had never seen it before. Abby hopped out, petting the car like a favored animal before walking around to the other side, where Ziva had just stepped out and closed the doors.

"You would not believe the food this place serves," Abby gushed as she began walking toward the doors. "When I first came to work at NCIS, this is where me and Gibbs would go when we needed to resolve a fight that we thought might result in screaming and breaking things. You can't scream or break things in a public place."

"You and Gibbs fought?" Ziva asked, blinking. "I think my world was just tilted off its axis."

"Ha ha. Yes, when I transferred in it turned out I was the first person who would actually stand up to him and wasn't terrified into a puddle of cowering goo by his 'glare of doom'. That pissed him off."

"But now you act as if he's a god that can do no wrong," Ziva objected, entering after Abby, and inhaling appreciatively the aromas that wafted to her nostrils.

"And just think how many arguments and explanations and compromises and promises it took to gain that devotion," Abby replied. "You ask me what I believe in, Officer David, and my answer's always going to be Gibbs."

Ziva blinked. "Not yourself?"

Abby shook her head violently. "Oh hell no. When you asked me if I wanted to die last night, and I said no, that was more an automatic reaction."

Just then, a waiter came to bring them to their table, and they didn't speak until the drink orders had been given, and they were alone once again.

"You've tried to kill yourself," Ziva stated.

Abby nodded. "Many, many times. Pills, cutting, carbon-monoxide poisoning, you name it. Most of the time I've stopped before it got too far."

"Does Gibbs know this?" Ziva asked softly. Abby nodded minutely, and turned the inside of her wrists to an angle where the agent could see the fresh looking scabs and scars there. She drew in a sharp breath, and looked at the other woman.

"How long ago?"

Abby shrugged, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. "I don't know. Some time just after Kate died, I think."

"You don't remember?" Ziva asked incredulously.

"I—I mean, after Kate died—Well, she was a good friend to all of us, and I was sort of going through this phase where I was in denial, and I couldn't tell what was a dream and what wasn't. I didn't think I was actually doing it. I thought I was dreaming. Gibbs found me. Yelled at me, took me to a hospital, promised not to tell anyone. He didn't trust me, though. I stayed with him for a couple of weeks until he was satisfied I had my head on straight again."

"Are you two lovers?" Ziva asked. Abby choked on the water she was drinking.

"Oh, look. Our orders," she said, smiling overly-enthusiastically at the waiter that set down her soda and Ziva's tea.

"Indeed," Ziva said under her breath, deciding to leave that topic alone for the moment. She busied herself with her tea, stirring in the cream, pushing the sugar away in disdain.

"I have this friend," Abby said suddenly. "His name's Gabriel. He lives in New York and sells ancient artifacts and stuff to people off the Internet. He's been trying to get this cop friend of his to notice him for a while now, but it's not working because, well, she's got these other two or three guys who, well, one of them's a stalker, one of them's married and the other one works for Fornell, but that's not the point. Um, he's kind of this geeky, wierd guy who's really good with computers. And his friend's a kickass cop with a gun and a leather jacket and a motorcycle and she's just a million times cooler than him. But she's hotheaded. And she likes to take risks, and—"

"It sounds like you're describing a female version of Tony," Ziva observed dryly. Abby swore softly.

"This is _not_ coming out the way I want it to. Never mind. The clam chowder is to die for."

"I think I'll stick with a salad," Ziva said, closing her menu. Abby shrugged.

"Your loss."

"Any thoughts on the case?" Ziva asked her, stacking their menus for something to do with her hands. Abby shook her head, sucking on her straw.

"We haven't been away from work more than twenty minutes and you expect me to be able to have come up with some brilliant explanation?"

Ziva shook her head. "Some people think better when not under stress."

"Yeah, I suppose that's true. And it's not like Gibbs is the grand provider of relaxation for the universe," she grinned.

"I don't know, he let's you get away with quite a bit," Ziva set aside the spoon in her teacup.

Abby grinned. "As I told McGee, that's the advantage of being me."

XXX

Disclaimer: The waiter? Yeah. He's mine. That's it, though. Songs belong to Tori Amos, Gabriel and the others belong to Top Cow, and the NCIS gang belongs to whoever they belong to.

A/N: I understand why everyone hates Ziva (Prin69 compared it to my dislike of Rhade when the folks at Tribune killed off Tyr on Andromeda) but from my perspective she's just getting better and better each week.

Also. Abby references Gabriel, a Witchblade character, because I needed her to talk about a relationship that she tries to make resemble her own with someone, and I've already got a universe that crosses over into Witchblade territory, so I figured I'd leave it the way it was. Don't worry, this isn't about to become a crossover. (And sorry if the drug stuff is a tad off)

And thank you so much for the reviews! SEVEN! Yay!


	3. Part Three

One-upmanship

By: Thought

Disclaimer: uh, no.

A/N: My apologies for the lateness of this chapter! However, it is extra long to make up for it!

Also, yes, migraines can get that bad just from a lack of sleep or stress, I've gotten them.

XXX

Interlude

_Hush. It's okay. You couldn't fight it forever. You're not quite that strong. Just think hard and you'll be invisible. Focus. You're nothing. You're beautiful. Don't hide anymore. It will only hurt for a little while. Just like a Band-Aid. You can hear them now. Their coming to find you. It's okay. Don't panic. You knew this wouldn't last forever. Just breathe. Don't let them see how much it hurts you. Try not to scream. That's right. Shhh. It won't ever be the same now. But it's okay. Come on now. Just a few more steps. That's right. There. Just like that. Perfect. You're okay now._

Part Three: In which Abby is overworked.

The next day had the team working doggedly all morning, and by the time five-thirty rolled around Abby's eyes were watering and sore, her hands shaking from too much caffeine and her head pounding. She reached over to her desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of Aspirin and popping the cap off, dumping three tablets into her palm. The doors to her lab opened behind her, and she glanced up to see Ziva standing in the doorway. Abby didn't have the energy to move the few feet to turn down her pounding music, and merely gave the woman a half-hearted wave before downing the three pills with a gulp of ice cold coffee that, from its Starbucks insignia, she deduced had belonged to Gibbs at some point that day. The other woman arched an eyebrow, and walked over to the stereo, turning the pounding music down so that they could speak at a comfortable level. She watched as Abby finished off the coffee, and then began typing at her computer, completely ignoring Ziva's presence. Abby knew it was rude, but if she didn't get these databases set up within the next hour she was pretty sure Gibbs would strangle her.

"Isn't that cold?" Ziva asked, gesturing to the coffee.

Abby nodded, distracted. "Breakfast of champions," she said dryly. "Pain killers and caffeine. Hey, what was the room mate's sister's name?"

"Marlaya Kawnery," Ziva answered automatically, having interviewed the woman not an hour before, a fact which Abby only knew due to Tony's mutterings about how Gibbs wouldn't let him interview any female witnesses when he had been down in her lab collecting some fingerprint results.

"What are you cross referencing?" Ziva asked her.

"I'm doing a search of all the people our vic might have come into contact with and trying to match their blood types up to his. It's possible the drug was injected into him through a blood transfer, maybe one he wasn't even aware of."

"That would leave a mark," Ziva reminded her. Abby glared at the screen in front of her.

"Yeah. But have you got any better ideas?"

"Yes. First, you get out of this lab, eat something and sleep for a couple of hours, and then you come back and start chasing leads that wouldn't require magic to pull off."

Abby felt a serge of annoyance flood through her. "I'm fine. I'm not hungry. I'm not tired. I need to finish this database. Go away before I shoot you."

"You don't carry a gun," Ziva reminded her.

"You do. And I'm not exactly incapable of using a gun."

"Really?" Ziva sounded doubtful.

"Yeah. Really."

"Prove it."

Abby's head shot up. "Huh?"

"Prove that you can use a gun. Come with me to the shooting range for a few minutes. Take a bit of a break from all of this. You can't stay down here working overnight."

"Like hell I can't," Abby retorted, memories of many nights spent doing exactly that flittering across her mind.

"Everyone else has taken a break today. Even Gibbs. You need to get out. You wouldn't want to jeopardize the case by overworking yourself, would you?"

Abby didn't even grace that with a response until she felt her chair being pulled away from the desk, and she was spun around to find herself looking up into irritated dark eyes. She tried to move the chair back, but Ziva kept a firm hold on the arms.

"Abby," she said. "You're going to get up, put away the lab coat ant actually leave the lab. And then I'm going to take you out for dinner, and then back to my place where you are going to sleep for three hours, at least. I promise I'll wake you up after that, if that's what you want, but for now I'm not giving you a choice."

Abby looked more than a little stunned at the other woman's firm declaration, and quietly put her computer into standby, tossed her lab coat over the back of a chair, and trailed after Ziva as she left the lab. She felt as if she had just been kicked in the stomach. It was the first time that someone had told her to stop working, and actually enforced the order. They passed Gibbs on their way out, and he raised an enquiring eyebrow at Abby, completely ignoring Ziva.

She shrugged, and signed 'I'm going to eat at a restaurant. And sleep for three hours,' with a helpless shrug and a mildly confused glance toward Ziva, where she was waiting a few feet ahead of them.

Gibbs nodded thoughtfully, and asked her how long she had been in the lab that day. When she admitted to him that she hadn't left the night before, he looked a lot more concerned, however also gave Ziva a very grateful glance. Sighing, he reached up and rested his hand against Abby's cheek in the sign for 'my girl', sending little tingles throughout her entire body. She leaned her face into his palm for a moment, until she remembered that she was supposed to be opposing this interruption of her work, and pulled away from him.

"That was cute," Ziva said dryly as soon as they were settled in her car. Abby shrugged, and instead of answering she reached out to turn on the CD player. Ziva hadn't changed the CD, and Abby allowed Tori's soothing music to lull her into a half wakeful state leaning against the door, because no matter how much she fought it, the truth was that she would like nothing better than to be sound asleep in bed at that moment.

"You like Japanese?" Ziva asked after a while, rousing Abby from her half-doze.

"Sure," she nodded groggily. Ziva frowned, then shook her head and turned the car down a different street.

"We'll get take out," she decided.

"Mmk," Abby returned to her position against the window. Now that she was out of the lab and not working, she was willing to admit that she definitely needed a break, and while the shooting range may have been a tad out of her capabilities at the moment, her eyes and head were grateful for the relative quiet and peace.

The drive to a Tim Horton's was short, and when they reached the building that Abby assumed to be Ziva's apartment complex with sandwiches and juice in hand, it was barely six. Ziva led her up four flights of stairs and down a brightly lit hall to a door at the very end of the corridor.

"Hold this," she told Abby, handing over the paper bags and fiddling with the lock and key. When they entered, Abby felt her entire body relaxing almost immediately. While she had been drowsy on the way over, she hadn't been near relaxed. Her attempts to order coffee at the Tim Horton's had been met with an incredulous glance from Ziva and a very firm order to forget it. However stepping into the dark entry (a relief to her eyes from the harsh lighting of the halls), with the scent of incense wafting through the air, Abby allowed herself a moment to bask in the feeling of sheer contentment being away from work brought her.

"You can hang your coat over there," Ziva told her, taking the bags from Abby's hands and jerking her head toward a small glass doored closet. Abby automatically settled her long black leather jacket on a hanger and her calf high black leather boots on the utilitarian shoe rack before trailing after Ziva into the living room.

It had grown dark outside already, and Abby moved towards a window, staring out at the lights of the city below. "They're all so small," she commented, but received no answer. Turning, she didn't see the other woman anywhere in the sitting area. What she did see, however, surprised her. Beautiful rugs covered in elaborate designs that looked to be hand woven covered the laminate floor, and there was a tall bookshelf filled with leather bound texts, none of which Abby could read the titles to, due to the fact that not a one was in English. On the window sill rested a clay incense burner much like the one that decorated Abby's own apartment, the blackened ash of a stick filling the tray almost to overflowing.

"Do you want to eat in here or in the kitchen?" Ziva asked, popping her head around the corner.

Abby glanced over quickly, and at once regretted the swift movement as it set off a bout of intense throbbing in her head. She closed her eyes, sucking in deep breaths, waiting for the bounding to settle down, or for her mind to get accustomed to the new pain stimulus.

"Are you alright?" Ziva asked, suddenly right beside her.

"Yeah. Just a sec." Abby blew out a shaky breath as the pain receded a fraction, allowing her to look over to the other woman. "Kitchen's fine. Do you happen to have any painkillers?"

Ziva shook her head. "Not after I saw you eating them like candy back at the lab."

"You're no fun," Abby pouted, walking toward where she presumed the kitchen to be.

"You're also sleep deprived. What time did you get in this morning?" Ziva asked, following her.

Abby winced internally. She had known the question would pop up eventually, but hadn't been looking forward to answering it. She busied herself with unwrapping the sandwiches and breaking the seals on the juices, hoping that the other woman would just drop it.

"Abby…" Ziva was near her again, close enough to touch and yet not making any physical contact. Abby had always been very protective of her personal space, and the realization that Ziva had made it onto the list of people she let close to her in a physical sense had her pulling away.

"Didn't go home last night," she muttered, taking a seat and bighting into her sandwich.

"When was the last time you slept?" Ziva joined her, not eating, but staring across the small table at her with a stare that the young Goth was having a hard time holding.

"Last—No, wait, it's Wednesday today? Shit, I'm all screwed up." She began mentally counting backwards, swearing silently as the number continued to increase. Finally, she snapped her fingers. "Fifty-two hours and fifteen minutes ago."

Ziva blew out a breath. "Your body does need to rest, you know?"

Abby carefully shook her head. "Nope. There's this thing called caffeine. Insta-sleep for the workaholic in all of us!"

"You got that from Gibbs."

Abby shrugged. "Which. The jingle or the addiction."

"Both."

She shook her head animatedly and bit down on her lip hard enough to make it bleed to push back the flood of pain. "Neither. I made up the jingle on the spot. And Gibbs just provided me with the means to fulfill my addiction which I gained during university. Double-majoring in forensics and criminal psychology means you're lucky if you get twelve hours of sleep a week. Not to mention all the parties, the extra extension courses, the emotional rollercoaster, a job—"

"You're a profiler, as well?" Ziva asked in surprise. Abby held up a finger in a hushing motion.

"Nobody knows. And besides, I'm sure there's some special initiation one has to go through to be a real grown up profiler. Like—Well, like Kate. She was a profiler. I just drop hints where I can. Though Gibbs and Ducky know, but I'd be willing to bet that I have no secrets from either of them."

"How long have you been working with them?" Ziva asked, obviously curious.

"Six or seven years. I joined in mid ninety-eight, so ever since then. I submitted an application on a dare from one of my friends, and two weeks later I'm being called down for an interview." She paused to take a gulp of juice, setting the bottle back on the table with a muted thump. She smiled self-deprecatingly. "Totally fucked up the interview, of course. Said all the wrong things, insulted the director's suit, spilled coffee on Gibb's notebook and sent Milford's (you wouldn't know her, she retired), well, I sent her gold plated pen rolling under the desk where it fell down a vent. I remember standing out in the hall with all the other applicants, and I was already on the phone with my friend getting him to pick me up the application forms for a CSI lab tech. I started drawing, doodling all over my notebook. Then someone taps me on the shoulder, and I look up and poof, everybody's gone. So I get up and I'm all apologetic and rushing to get out of there, 'cause I'm sure they've picked the lucky winner, and I'm just sitting in the hall like an idiot. And I'm almost at the elevators when Gibbs yells at me, "Monday morning at 08:00 AM sharp! I don't appreciate tardiness." And all I can remember is wondering to myself who the hell he was to be giving me orders like the director." Abby blushed, realizing that she had been babbling, and dropped her eyes to the table.

"The sad thing is that that story doesn't surprise me in the least," Ziva said, a hint of laughter in her tone. Abby chanced a look up to see her smiling at her.

"So what about you? How'd your days with Mosad start out?" Abby asked, leaning back and continuing to eat. Ziva's eyes closed off, and her hands gripped the glass bottle of juice in a death grip.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Abby shrugged. "Whatever. That's cool."

They ate in silence for the next few minutes, Abby taking advantage of the quiet to give her head a moment of rest bit. When she finished eating, she got up, crumpling her wrapper and shoving it into the paper bag.

"That was great, thanks," she told Ziva. "I'll catch a cab back to the office and see you tomorrow."

Ziva caught her by the wrists before she was half way across the small room, spinning her to face the opposite direction.

"I know this is a foreign concept to you, but now you're going to go get some sleep."

Abby pouted. "But I'm awake again. I slept in the car."

Ziva just gave her a disbelieving look and guided her into the bedroom where a perfectly made bed was pressed up against the wall across from a beautifully carved dresser and night table. Abby stood beside the bed, feeling irritated and defiant. She hated not being in control, and around this woman Abby seemed to have absolutely no say in anything she did.

"If you think I won't tie you down you are gravely mistaken," Ziva stated in a tone, that, though sounding mostly like a joke, left Abby with know doubt that she was quite serious. Still pouting, the technician settled herself on the bed, curling up into a small ball at the farthest edge. She buried her face in the pillow which smelled of perfume and incense and laundry soap and tried to block out everything else, including the other individual still in the room with her.

After a moment, she felt a light blanket fall over her, and she pulled it closer. She waited until she heard the door close before she bounced up and grabbed her purse from the floor beside the bed, rummaging in it for her painkillers and her MP3 player. She was just about to pop another pill when the door opened and Ziva entered, looking both triumphant and irritated at the same time.

"How did I know you wouldn't just do something that's good for you that docilely?" she asked rhetorically, plucking the bottle from Abby's hands and taking it, along with the rest of her purse, out of Abby's reach. "You're just like a child."

"Fuck you," Abby replied shortly, turning away.

"Abby. Please. Just try to get some sleep. There's nothing else for you to do, and if the way you're trying to kill yourself by overdose is any indication, you've got a horrible migraine. You'd be no good to Gibbs right now in the condition you're in."

Sighing, Abby decided that for now, she would go along with the woman's advice. "Fine. Three hours, no more."

"Mmhm," Ziva nodded, exiting the room still carrying Abby's belongings with her.

Abby returned to her curled up position and after only a few minutes, she had drifted off.

XXX

When Abby awoke it was dark, and there was no sound in the apartment. She pushed herself up, grateful to feel no pounding sensation in her head at the movement. Tossing her legs over the side of the bed, she carefully made her way to the door in the dark, opening it softly and making her way out into the living room. Ziva was curled up on the couch with her laptop open, eyes fixed on the screen.

"Sleep well?" she asked without looking up. Abby walked over to sit in the chair across from her.

"Yeah. What time is it?"

"Four-thirty," Ziva said without missing a beat. Abby froze, and jerked upright.

"Shit! You were supposed to wake me up after three hours!"

Ziva nodded. "You needed the sleep more than you needed to work."

Abby felt her anger boiling over, and took a handful of slow, deep breaths to calm herself before speaking again. "You are not my mother. Nor are you my lover. And you are also not Gibbs. Therefore, you had no right to decide what's best for me without asking my permission!"

"I just woke up half an hour ago," Ziva commented, seemingly completely ignoring Abby's rant. "There's fruit if you're hungry."

"Coffee?" Abby asked hopefully.

"No," Ziva shook her head. "I've decided my new mission in life is to rid you of at least a few of your self-harmful habits."

"Ha. Ha," Abby muttered. "My own personal Mother Teresa. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside, now."

Ziva shrugged, and continued to type at her laptop. Abby wandered into the kitchen and located an orange, as well as a small carton of chocolate milk; something which seemed to Abby to be very out of character for the woman in the other room. Digging her fingernail beneath the peal of the orange, she reentered the living room, opting to take the seat on the couch beside Ziva for the soul reason that the coffee table was close enough to set her glass of milk on while she ate.

"What'cha doing?" Abby asked, leaning closer to see the screen of the laptop.

"Doing a search on our victim's family. I was thinking that it may be possible he was involved with some sort of drug ring that his friends didn't know about, and that wasn't marked on his record."

Abby arched an eyebrow. "And you think his family will know?"

"I couldn't think of anyone else."

"And even if he was, what are you hoping to prove? It defies the laws of physics that the man is dead at all!"

Ziva shrugged. "Any information may turn out to be useful."

"When are we going in?" Abby asked, finishing the last orange segment.

"I was thinking five-thirty. I didn't shower yet because I didn't want to wake you, and I'm sure you'd like to get cleaned up as well."

Abby glanced down at her stained tee-shirt and black jeans and winced. "Yeah."

"I've still got some things I want to check. The washroom's just off the bedroom, there're towels in the cupboard."

"Thanks," Abby nodded. She rose and began making her way into the bedroom when she paused, and turned back. "I'm still pissed at you for letting me sleep through."

"I had no doubt you would be," Ziva replied, sounding utterly unrepentant.

Abby sighed. "Right. Of course you didn't." She turned away, walking briskly to the door on the other side of the bedroom.

The hot water of the shower was, Abby reflected, possibly one of the best things she had ever experienced. She took her time, massaging the mint scented shampoo into her hair and scalp with fervor. When she had completed her regular routine in the shower, she stood leaning against the wall for a moment, just allowing the beads of water to pound down on her back. Finally she forced herself out of the shower and dried off with a large towel. She looked down to where her clothes had been sitting, and swore violently at what she saw. She had placed them too near to where the shower door opened, and the entire outfit was soaked through.

"This? Is absolutely my luck," she muttered to herself, glaring at the pile of sopping wet garments. Closing her eyes at the realization of what she was going to have to do, Abby wrapped the towel closer around herself, and made her way to the open door of the bedroom, peaking around the doorframe and clearing her throat hesitantly.

Ziva glanced up, giving her a half smile. "Done?"

Abby shook her head. "Not quite. Uh, my clothes are kinda wet…from the shower… I mean, I took them off, but they got wet from when I opened the shower door…" She couldn't believe this was happening to her.

"Do you want to borrow some of mine?" Ziva asked, smirking.

Abby clenched her teeth. "Uh huh."

The other woman got up, pausing to retrieve Abby's purse from behind the couch and handing it to her on her way into the bedroom.

"Thanks," Abby muttered, her cheeks a bright red.

A moment later, Ziva tossed a loose, flowing dark purple skirt at her, followed by a black shirt with purple embroidery. "I hope they fit," she said, and Abby caught a hint of embarrassment from the other woman.

"Thank you," the Goth replied, hurrying back into the bathroom to quickly get dressed. She scooped up her tee-shirt and jeans and carried them out into the room. "Do you have a plastic bag or something I can put these in?"

"In the kitchen, top drawer on the left," Ziva replied, walking passed Abby to the washroom.

Abby deposited her clothes in the bag, which she set by her jacket and boots at the door. Returning to the bedroom, she pulled her makeup from her purse and applied eyeliner, eye shadow and lipstick in short order. Ziva didn't take long, and by quarter after five the two women had packed all their things into Ziva's car and were on their way to work.

The streets were pitch black, the only interruption the glow of street lights and that of the few other cars insane enough to be out at the early hour. They made the drive to HQ in relative silence, and by the time they had reached the large building Abby was more than glad to be out of the car and into the company of other people.

Gibbs was already there, and he waved them over as soon as they entered the squad room. "I was thinking last night. I want a list of the vic's family, organized from the closest to the farthest away."

"Give me five minutes," Ziva said, smirking and walking toward her desk.

"Nice outfit," Gibbs commented as Abby turned to go down to her lab. She froze, taking a quick breath.

"Thanks."

He was quiet for a moment, and then seemed to come to a decision. His face relaxed, and he picked up a box from his desk, walking over to give it to her. "More samples Ducky got from our guy."

Abby smirked. "The dead one?"

He gave her a look. "No, Abs, the undead one."

Abby's eyes lit up. "Really? 'Cause vampires are pretty."

Gibbs sighed, and gave her a gentle shove towards the elevator. "Shoo. Go work your magic."

Abby waved to him through the doors of the elevator as they closed and signed 'See you later'. He nodded, and turned away.

XXX

TBC…


	4. part iv

One-upmanship

By: Thought

A/N: This, in my opinion, isn't one of my better chapters. It was pieced together from different discs and drives, and written whenever I had a spare moment, so my apologies if it seems a bit disjointed. And…. Seriously? I may never decide if this is going to be Gibbs/Abby or Ziva/Abby. So if it seems to be leaning more towards one pairing at times, don't worry, there's still a good chance the other one will prevail. Also, in regards to Ziva's comment at the end, there's an episode, I don't remember which, where Tony says something like "McGee's my friend." And he and Ziva banter for a minute, and it ends with her going "Oh! That kind of friend." Which sent me into hysterics.

XXX

Part IV

In which Tony has a relationship with McGee. …but not really.

XXX

The day was another long one that was interrupted only by the appearance of a group of men in dark suits, and the director physically tearing the case file from Gibbs' hands and ordering them off the case. Ziva was sure that Abby and McGee had spent the hour between the closing of the case and the introduction of the new one exchanging emails fraught with conspiracy theories. Ziva and Tony had made hiding from Gibbs into an Olympic sport. He hadn't been thrilled when the mysterious case had been taken away from them, to put it mildly. Abby hadn't been there to witness it, something which Ziva could only interpret as a blessing. Gibbs had come very close to breaking down right there, his frustration with the political factor that had been introduced along with the director becoming very apparent. It could have been devastating for the girl; she thought the man invincible.

She waited for a lull in the new case to go visit Abby down in her lab. She wasn't working when Ziva got there, instead leaning back in her chair, sucking on the straw of one of the massive slushes that always seemed to appear on her desk courtesy of Gibbs. She was typing one-handed, smirking at whatever she was reading on the screen. She set down the drink when a new song came on, and began headbanging to the harsh electric guitars and drums. Ziva was loathed to interrupt her. It was the most relaxed she'd seen the lab tech since she first met her. She almost backed out, almost left her to her brief rest bit from reality. The choice was taken from her hands as Abby spun her chair, ending up staring straight across the lab at Ziva. She reached over and turned down the music, sitting up straighter and suddenly becoming hostile.

Before the Israeli could say a word, Abby spoke with a venom that Ziva had only heard directed towards her person. "You can tell Jethro that he will have his fucking results when I've finished them, and sending people down to tag team me will merely increase the chances that his evidence will be pushed to the bottom of the overly massive pile of evidence which is building up on my desk at a positively alarming rate. All of my machines have been working nonstop since I got in this morning and therefore he will get his results as soon as physically possible, and not a moment sooner. And no, just because he's Jethro Gibbs and he bribes me with caffeine and he stares threateningly at anything that pisses him off, the laws of physics just won't bend for him. Even, though I'm not entirely sure on this one, if he says "please"."

Ziva held up her hands as if fending off an attack. "I'm not coming on Gibbs' request. In fact, I don't think he knows I'm down here, and would probably have my head if he found out."

"Oh." Abby grinned, dropping right back into her relaxed state, flipping a pigtail over her shoulder. "I'm worth risking life and limb over? I'm touched."

Ziva moved farther into the lab, the stark white of the tiled floor providing a backdrop straight out of a horror movie for the gleaming metal counters and sterile instruments of indefinable purpose. Mechanized devices, the function of which Ziva could only guess at hummed away contentedly, performing a multitude of tasks to identify and incriminate perpetrators of crimes of all kinds. Abby was the perfect mad scientist archetype, sitting with a manic grin on her black painted lips, with her raven hair flowing over her slender shoulders like a shawl.

"Gibbs isn't thrilled with the director taking us off of the case," she explained. "I had to get away from the tension for a while."

Abby was still wearing Ziva's clothes, a fact which hadn't gone unnoticed by the Mossad agent. The soft cotton fell around her frame in the way a summer day breezes over the landscape and all that reside there, a sharp contrast to the mental image that her name brought to mind, that of layers of black lace and velvet and leather against white skin. Her eyes glittered with amusement, but Ziva could detect a slight darkening of concern when she mentioned their superior, and she wondered just how much of that particular story Abby hadn't yet confided in her.

"He's really pissed about that," the Goth agreed, twisting her fingers together in her lap. Ziva perched on the corner of a table, brushing her unruly hair out of her eyes.

"No one's telling us anything. The body's gone, all of our records of the case, everything; just disappeared."

"What, No special intel from your pal the director?" Ziva detected an undercurrent of the girl's former hostility as she arched one thin eyebrow snidely.

"Director Shepard has been less than forthcoming with what information she chooses to share with me," Ziva stated coolly, folding her hands. If Abby wanted to play, she would play. The implications in her words that she _was_ in fact privy to information not accessible without an inside connection placed her on a higher ground than the lab tech. Ziva had had suspicions that Abby suffered from a massive inferiority complex when she first arrived at NCIS and witnessed the girl's interactions with the members of the team. As her time there increased, so did her understanding of those with whom she worked. It wasn't Abby who suffered from the inferiority complex as much as Tony, and if she had to make a guess, she'd say Abby was borderline suicidal. The scars on her wrists and the admonitions of previous attempts by Abby herself served to cement this theory in her mind, and she was determined to keep an eye on her in order to observe any patterns of self-destructive behavior she might exhibit. The previous day had been a perfect example, in Ziva's thoughts, of Abby's disregard for her personal well-being.

Abby turned back to her computer, picking up her drink. She took a long sip, and promptly choked, coughing and obviously trying not to spit it everywhere. Ziva slid from the table, moving over to stand behind her. "Abby? Are you alright?"

The girl nodded, setting aside her drink and typing madly as she continued to cough. "People in IRC are mocking me," she said, completely confusing Ziva.

"Did you eat today?" Ziva asked, noting that it was almost four PM.

Abby nodded, tilting her head up to look at her backwards. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. An entire bole of soup, a cookie and a lot of coffee and caf-pows. And no painkillers – Jee, I wonder where those got to? I mean, they might have magically hopped out of my purse and returned to their home planet, but I doubt it."

Ziva shrugged. She felt no regret in the fact that she had stolen the bottle from Abby that morning. It wasn't like the Goth couldn't buy more, and Ziva was sure Abby's medicine cabinet at home wasn't exactly barren, but if she could prevent her from using drugs to force her body to do more work than it was meant to for even one day, she would do so gladly.

A high-pitched whining exploded from a nearby cubical machine, and Abby spun out of her chair, bounced off of Ziva, into a table and finally landed in front of the machine, which she proceeded to silence with the push of a button. "Shiny," she said blandly, and a printer jumped to life.

Abby walked over to it, pulling the papers from the tray as they fluttered into place. "Have you seen anyone off of McKay's team lately? I think Laura said they were going back to the crime scene, which would be very bad because I lost McKay's cell number, and he's worse than Gibbs if he doesn't get his results ASAP."

Ziva had never heard of, let alone met the people of whom Abby was talking. "Maybe he hasn't discovered the miracle of coffee yet," she suggested, moving out of Abby's way as she walked back to the computer chair, reading the papers and not watching where she was going.

"Oh believe me, anyone who's worked with the government for more than a week knows all of the ins and outs of the cure to all things work related," Abby flopped back into her chair. "Coffee rules."

"Have you even started processing our evidence?" Ziva asked, already knowing the answer but hoping, with some small bit of remaining optamism that she was wrong.

"Nope," Abby shook her head. "But if you promise not to tell Gibbs I didn't start running it as soon as he dropped it off, I might be able to do a bit of shifting so that the stuff you guys brought in is next on the list."

Really, it wasn't even a decision. "Of course." Anything that kept Gibbs below the boiling point was worth a million lies. The phone on Abby's desk rang shrilly.

"Abby Sciuto, NCIS forensics division, how can I help you?" Ziva hadn't been aware that the Goth could sound so professional. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, jotting down information as fast as she could.

"Okay. Yeah. Cool. Really now? Jee, I wonder how that happened. …heh." She made dismissive gestures at Ziva until the Israeli gave up on getting anymore interesting conversation out of her and left, the glass doors sealing away the sound of the music which Abby turned up as soon as she started walking out.

XXX

"It's seven-thirty at night," Ziva sighed as Tony knocked on the doors to the high school for the fifth time. "No one is going to be here."

He shrugged, giving up on knocking and focusing all his attention on the door bell beside the doors. "You'd be surprised. The school's open until ten. A lot of functions go on at high school when classes are over. People rent the gyms, games are going on, study groups, parent/teacher meetings, the list goes on. I wouldn't be surprised if our friend the principal is still here."

"Things would have been so much more convenient if he had just stayed at home tonight," she reflected, studying a particularly explicit display of graffiti.

"However no where near difficult enough," Tony explained cheerily. "This way, Gibbs gets to torture us far past quitting time because he's pissed at the director. And, ya know, really? This could wait until tomorrow. The guy's not a suspect, just a witness. We're not expecting him to make a sudden trip to the Bahamas or anything. But no, we just _have_ to get his statement tonight. Never mind that some of us actually have personal lives. Oh no, our problems are positively minuscule when compared to Gibbs' pissing match with the director. It'd be so much easier if they just had sex and got it over with. Then we could all rest easy at night because we'd actually be at home at night instead of outside of some second-rate high school looking for some idiot principal who couldn't be bothered to stick around for the police to question."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "You had a date tonight."

He groaned. "Katrina Davies. _Only_ the most beautiful pharmaceutical technician in the state. And she was going to go out with _me_ tonight. But no, I had to call and cancel. Now she'll never go out with me."

"Poor baby."

He glared at her. "Hey now. Women like this one don't come along all that often. She was special. A delicate flower—"The doors swung open, almost catching Tony across the jaw. He hopped backwards, flailing his arms. "We're with NCIS," he said without hesitation, still trying to get his footing. "We need to speak with Principal Douglas Pine."

The potbellied, balding man in the doorway stared at them with disdain. "What, exactly, is NCIS?"

Ziva and Tony exchanged exasperated glances, and pulled out their badges. "Naval Criminal Investigative Service," they chorused.

"We need to speak to Mr. Pine in regards to a murder we believed him to have witnessed," Ziva continued.

The man studied their badges distrustfully. Ziva pulled her jacket closer around her -- October nights in DC were chilly. Tony shifted from his left foot to his right. The man blew irritably into his beard, and stepped outside, closing the door behind himself. He wore a white tee-shirt with the logo of the school emblazoned across the front in painfully bright colours. Ziva assumed the school was playing host to a sports event. The cold didn't seem to affect him, and Ziva made a conscious effort not to huddle in her thin coat.

"You're talkin' to him," the man told them, sounding bored.

Tony kept a completely professional smile in place as he shook the man's hand. "I'm Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, this is Officer Ziva David. Can you tell us where you were this morning, around eight-thirty?"

Pine looked at Tony like he was an idiot. "I was here, Mr. DiNozzo." He emphasized the second syllable of Tony's name, making it 'Da-_nose_-o.

"What time did you arrive?" Tony asked. Ziva noted that the cold didn't seem to be causing him any grief, either.

"I got here at seven in the AM. I certainly didn't witness no murder."

Can anyone corroborate that?" Ziva asked coldly. She didn't like this man, and it was a wonder to her that he was the representation for an institution of learning.

Tony gave her a warning glance. "We just want to make sure no one gets any ideas of trying to connect you to the death," he told Pine smoothly.

"I was in a meeting with my staff from seven-fifteen until eight-thirty. School started an hour late today 'cause of the staff meeting. The kids didn't start classes till nine."

"And what did you do after the meeting, Mr. Pine?" Tony asked, still smiling in an open, friendly manner.

"I had a call from the board of trustees. Then I went out to pick up coffee for the office. After that I had to deal with a student who decided it'd be fun to pull the fire alarm."

Tony nodded, and tugged on his jacket, straightening it. "Great. You won't mind if we just check all of that out in the morning?"

Pine shrugged. "Go ahead. I got nothing to hide."

Tony nodded, and signaled to Ziva that they were leaving. "Thanks for your time. You have a good night."

"You too, Agent."

They reached the car, and Tony slipped into the driver's side as soon as he unlocked the vehicle. By the time Ziva got in, he had the heat on full blast, and was rubbing his arms. The smile was gone. "Somehow, I don't think I missed much not going to public school," he said, rolling his eyes at the building that was just visible through the encroaching darkness. "Some people just have that air about them. The one that makes you want to shoot them and put the rest of the world out of its misery."

He grinned appreciatively. "Funny. You kinda struck me as that sort of person when I first met you." She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue.

"And you struck me as a sexist pig."

He pulled out of the parking lot. "I guess we're both good judges of character."

"Are we done now?" she asked, pushing her hands through her hair tiredly.

"Yes. He can't expect us to work any later than this. I intend on going straight home after I drop you off."

"My car's at HQ," she told him.

"Yep. Which is why you're going to deliver our info to Gibbs."

"Tony, he'll probably have me working until midnight."

He grinned. "If you're lucky."

"I'll email it to him."

He shook his head. "I don't think he knows how to check his email."

She stared at him. "Of course he does. Who doesn't know how to check their email in America, land of the technological advances?"

Tony shrugged. "Gibbs."

She sighed. "Of course. Just… to make our lives hell?"

Tony nodded. "You got it."

"Wonderful."

Tony was laughing at her. She could tell; he wasn't even trying to hide the fact. She focused all her energy on warming up, and ignoring him. The rest of the trip was spent in silence.

"Have a good night, Ziva," he told her when they pulled up outside of HQ. "Oh. And tell Abby I need to keep her copy of Children Of The Corn for a little longer."

She glanced back at him before closing the door. "What makes you think I'm going to go see her?"

He laughed. "I wasn't born yesterday." She stepped back, shutting the door. Tony pealed out, tires squealing and she was left to ponder what his last words could imply.

XXX

She didn't think of Tony when the first place she went when getting inside was Abby's lab. Jackson had looked at her strangely when she had reentered the building, but all she had had to say was "Gibbs." And he seemed to understand.

"Sorry about that," he said with feeling, and handed her belongings back to her.

Abby was asleep over her desk when Ziva entered the darkened lab. The girl was curled up on a futon in the corner, and all her computers were displaying a blank screen. Ziva walked over to her sleeping form as quietly as possible, studying her in the dim reflections of the streetlights outside the windows. Her hair was still down, spread out over the pillow like a black halo, and in the purple clothing she looked more like a little girl than a woman.

Ziva had always imagined Abby as appearing just as demonic when she was asleep than when she was awake. Now, all of her makeup had been wiped off and her eyes closed in sleep, Ziva could glimpse a human being beneath all the masks. "Abby," she said softly, touching the other woman's shoulder.

She woke immediately, shooting up into a sitting position. "Hi!"

Ziva stepped back quickly. "Hi. Were you planning on staying here all night?"

Abby nodded. "Yeah. I'm running tests that need to be monitored, and I need the results every half hour. However? I am sleeping in between, so you can't freak out at me."

"Is Gibbs still here?"

Abby nodded. "Yeah. You got stuff for him?"

"Not much. Tony and I just got back from visiting a high school."

Abby made a face. "Was that fun?"

"Not exactly."

"You heading out?"

"If Gibbs lets me."

Abby grinned. "You write it down?"

Ziva nodded, handing over her notes when Abby extended a hand. "I'll give these to him. You shoo before he finds you and makes you work all night."

? The Israeli blinked. "Thank you."

"No problem. Maybe you'll be able to relax for a few hours. Have some you time."

"Me time?"

Abby nodded. "Like, play your piano, or something. I dunno. Call friends, have a bubble bath, watch TV, go out and get drunk." She shrugged.

"Thank you, Abby," Ziva said, nodding to the sheet of paper in the girl's hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Abby bounced up, walking towards Ziva. "No problem. I'm gonna go see Gibbs. If we finish up I might catch a ride home with him. Or I'll just sleep here."

"Oh!" Ziva snapped her fingers. "Tony told me to tell you that he needs to keep your copy of Children Of The Corn a little longer than expected."

Abby rolled her eyes. "This just proves that he has a man crush on Courtney Gains."

Ziva stared, shrugged, and smirked. "And here I thought he was in a relationship with McGee."

Abby skidded to a halt, spun on her heal, and held up her hands. "Back up. _What_!"

Ziva laughed. "Good night, Abby." She walked out of the lab, smiling to herself as the other woman put in calls to McGee and Tony, screaming into her cell with fervor.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter FivE

In which Abby invades

She received the information, thoughtfully provided by Tony on a visit to the lab made under false pretences, with a calm that Buddha would envy. There had not been a single twitch nor had she choked on any highly caffeinated liquids. This, in her mind, was an accomplishment worthy of some acknowledgement, as it's not everyday one is confronted with the words "Ziva's broken. Fix her." Tony had even brought her lunch in order to insure her cooperation in the matter of discerning what, exactly, was making the Mossad officer more irritable than Gibbs on decaf.

"Why the hell isn't McGee getting recruited for this?"

Tony stopped fiddling with her mass-spec long enough to give her a withering look. "Well, considering he's not sleeping with Ziva…" She frowned. He arched an eyebrow. She shook her head. "Oh."

Obviously, Tony was magical. Why else would Abby be standing outside Ziva's apartment with a bag of Chinese food and a selection of the best cult classics she could find floating around her living room on short notice? The Crow. Labyrinth. Nightmare Before Christmas. The Rocky Horror Picture Show. That last, she thought, might be a bit much at the moment. She readjusted her armload of things in order to slip that particular DVD into her bag where it would be out of sight and therefore not up for curious poking. The door did not open. She swore (not mentally) and knocked again. There would be hell to pay if Ziva wasn't at home.

After five minutes of no reaction from within, she gave up and set everything she was carrying on the floor. She wasn't leaving. This was one of those decisions on which she preferred not to look too closely at her motives. There was always the semi-romantic, pseudo-stalkery idea of sitting outside the apartment door until Ziva arrived home, but that usually worked a little better if the person you were waiting for was actually out, and not just ignoring the constant knocking on their door. Abby had slipped in the front doors of the building behind a little old lady with a poodle the size of some sort of down-sized elephant, and therefore there was the slight chance that Ziva was, in fact, out. This seemed unlikely to Abby, however; and she was quite content to pick the lock and enter uninvited. If nothing else, she could get out of the hallway and mooch off of Ziva's TV until the Israeli got home. If she was, in fact, out. Which she wasn't. Abby swung the now unlocked door open and stepped back out long enough the pick up the food and DVDs. Ziva was home. There was music coming from the living room and, when Abby entered, she saw the other woman curled up on the couch reading.

"Hey Ziva," Abby said. Ziva didn't even glance up.

"Abby."

"You knew it was me," Abby accused, dropping the movies by the couch.

"If I didn't, you'd be dead."

Abby arched an eyebrow. "You're kidding."

"Not really."

Abby shrugged. "I brought dinner. Take a look at the movies, decide what you feel like watching. Do you have any soda?"

Ziva blinked. "Why—"

"I'll find it," Abby cut her off, and headed into the small kitchen, depositing the large brown paper bag on the counter and opening cupboards until she located plates and cutlery. Her cell rang as she was dishing up the food.

"I have a problem," Tony said as soon as she picked up. Abby blew out a breath.

"I don't care."

"You should. It will eventually impact your life."

She sighed. "I'm not talking to Gibbs for you."

"Abby!"

"I don't even know why he's mad at you, but it's your own damn fault – why are you at work on a Friday night when the rest of us are very definitely not?"

Tony groaned. "Because God hates me."

"Which is fairly synonymous with Gibbs hating you?"

"Obviously."

"It's your own problem and I'm not getting involved."

"But he's making me stay at the office all night! Well, at least until midnight. You don't understand. I had a date tonight with a very hot redhead. I'm frustrated. Judy from accounting is starting to look attractive."

"Christ on a cracker, you need to get laid. Also? Redhead. No pity from my end. Now shoo, I'm busy with things that far outweigh your petty needs."

He snorted. "I can promise you, Abs, my problems really are more relevant than which boots you're wearing out tonight."

She pulled down two glasses from the cupboard above the sink. "I'm at Ziva's," she said under her breath.

"Oh. Thank God. Can I watch?"

She uncapped the soda bottle and tucked the phone against her shoulder as she poured.

"S T F U."

He sighed. "Stop interacting with McGee. It's warping your brain."

"You knew what it meant. Now go away. I'm serious."

"Okay, okay. Has she told you anything?"

"No. I just got here five minutes ago. I'm still hoping she doesn't kick me out once she gets over the surprise of me kind of popping up in her apartment. I'm hoping she accepts it as a form of revenge for earlier this week. Don't ask. I'm hanging up now. Kisses."

He didn't dignify that with a response, and hung up with a rather violent clatter before the line was cut. Abby recapped the soda and carried the glasses into the living room along with Ziva's plate. She set everything on the coffee table and darted back into the kitchen to grab her own. Ziva arched an eyebrow. "Hi Abby."

Abby bounced onto the couch right beside the other woman. "Hi!"

"Why are you in my apartment?"

Abby shrugged. "I was bored. You were home. Food is important and I even brought movies."

"That's very...strange of you," Ziva said with a sigh. Abby nodded.

"Thank you. We're going out later, too. I'm excited. I get to dress you up."

Ziva blinked. "Really."

"Yes."

"You're rather sure of yourself."

"People love me or fear me and then they are my slaves."

"I don't particularly feel like company tonight, nor do I want to go out to whatever Goth clubs you might drag me to. It was sweet of you to come, but it's not really a good time--"

"What part of 'are my slaves' did you not understand?"

Ziva rolled her eyes and took a bite of her rice. "You said that only applies to people who love you or fear you?"

Abby frowned. "Don't be like that. You basically took over my life earlier this week so you have no right to complain."

"It was for you're own good. You were abusing your body. There's nothing at all similar about you breaking into my apartment and—"

"Feeding you?" Abby finished dryly. "Look. Certain persons who shall remain nameless have told me in confidence that you've been, for lack of a better word, grumpy lately. Now, the last time I had any interaction with you, I wouldn't classify your behavior as grumpy. You were positively maternal. It was fucking creepy. Now, either something's up with you, in which case a night of relaxation couldn't hurt, or else said persons – okay, person – who told me is wrong and I'm still not leaving because I drove all the way over here and I'm far too lazy to leave now. Kay?"

"Abby—"

"Which movie do you want to watch?" She reached down beside the couch and pulled up the three choices for the evening. Ziva blew out a breath.

"When did you recuperate? Two days ago you were as fragile as a paper doll."

Abby tilted her head to the side. "Must've been the wonderful TLC I received."

Ziva frowned. "TLC?"

Abby smirked and took a sip of her soda. "I'd say ask Tony? But no. It stands for tender love and care. I was mocking and indirectly thanking you. Work with it."

"You're welcome. Indirectly."

Abby stuck out her tongue. "Seriously. Which movie?" Before Ziva could reply, the phone rang.

"Excuse me," Ziva murmured. Abby shrugged and looked away, studying the books on the shelf beside her intently. It was a weak attempt not to eavesdrop, and when Ziva began talking Abby was listening intently to every word.

"Jenny, this isn't a good time. Can I call—No, I just—"Pause. "No. I've got company at the moment." Pause. "Does that matter? You said—" pause. "I'm sorry, Director, I can't talk at the moment." Beep. Abby turned back, trying to appear casual.

"I always knew the director was the jealous type. Did you reassure her that I haven't lured you into bed by way of my mysterious evil Goth powers?"

Ziva stared at her. "What?"

"Never mind," Abby muttered. She had to remind herself that there was absolutely no reason for her to be jealous of anything that Ziva and the devil woman may or may not have going on. Really. Even if she did want to go find the director and rip her throat out for interrupting their evening. Which—so not a date. A date usually didn't involve picking locks and David Bowie in glitter. At least, that's what Abby had heard. She was not a conventional date girl and she was used to everything from being blindfolded on her way out of class and bundled away in a black SUV with tinted windows to finishing the night dodging a motorcycle in an unfamiliar living room after a few too many drinks and a couple hits of a drug she had never actually identified.

"I'm not sleeping with Director Sheppard," Ziva stated. The 'anymore' didn't have to be spoken out loud. Abby had to admit that this seemingly truthful admonition from the other woman did make her feel a hell of a lot better. Just another thing to add to the list of things that she wasn't thinking about too closely. Instead, she took a bite of chicken.

"So what did she want?" Abby asked after a few moments of rather awkward silence.

Ziva shifted. "It's not important. I'd prefer we not talk about it."

"Really? Is it in relation to whatever has gotten you all pissy the last couple days?"

"You've barely spoken a word to me since Wednesday. All you have as proof of my so-called irritability is Tony whining about it. Really, how reliable of a source is that? I'm fine. Can we drop it?"

The Goth shook her head. "Not after that little burst of denial. And I've kind of been super busy the last couple of days. So don't go making me feel guilty about that. Now seriously. What's going on?"

Ziva blew out a breath. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

Abby pouted. "But I'm adorable. You love me."

"Parts of what's bothering me are strictly 'need to know'. And you don't. It's very sweet of you to try and help, but I just can't explain it."

Abby's eyebrows shot up. "It has to do with that case, doesn't it? The one that got taken away from you guys? You didn't know anything on Wednesday, but now you do and it's bugging you because the director wants you to keep it to yourself but there's a little voice inside your head telling you that you need to tell Gibbs because… he's Gibbs."

Ziva stared at her. "You completed your psychology degree with honors, didn't you?"

Abby nodded. "Well, yes, but that was criminal psychology and unless this whole thing with the disappearing case is wicked intense, you're not a criminal. I mean, obviously there were a lot of general psychology classes, not everything was about criminals or whatever, but… Why?"

"You just outlined exactly what's been bothering me."

"Oh. Heh, I win. No, that was just a random guess. Seems I know you better than either of us realized. Excellent."

Ziva gave her a look that managed to combine both disdain and gratitude. Abby was impressed.

"So. Is there anything else you can tell me without me winding up dead in a ditch somewhere?"

Ziva stifled a harsh laugh. "What else do you want to know? The director has provided me with information that I feel should also be provided to certain other people. She disagrees. There's nothing I can do about it."

Abby tapped her fingers together. "Hmmm. So by other people I assume you mean Gibbs and Co. So now I ask, is this information in regards to anything that could put them in danger?"

Ziva thought it over. "No."

"Good. That makes this much easier." Abby leaned back and waited for Ziva's gaze to meet her own before she continued.

"So think about this. It's not putting them in danger. There's nothing you can do about it, without pissing off the Director royally. In all honesty, you're kind of dealing with this really immaturely. You're taking out your frustration on your coworkers for something that they have no control over and, really, something over which you have no control, either. Why waste time feeling guilty?"

Ziva stared at her. "As absolutely inspiring as that little speech was--"

Abby held up a hand, cutting her off. "If you're going to be like that, don't say anything. I brought movies. They are good movies. We're going to watch them."

Ziva's phone rang. Abby did not scream in frustration. "You sure you're not sleeping with her? The way she's acting is pretty reminiscent of a jealous lover. And believe me, I'd know." Abby had been on both the giving and receiving ends of many repetitively paranoid phone calls.

Ziva's eyes dropped and she snatched the phone off the table. Abby winced. So perhaps Ziva wasn't the only one who needed to learn to keep her bitter comments to herself. "Hello? ... No. ... Yes. ... I'm not even going to ask." She held out the phone. Abby accepted it, confused.

"Hello?"

"Abs. _don't_ hang up, damn it."

Abby took her finger off the 'end' button. "What do you want, DiNozzo?"

"I didn't interrupt you in the middle of sex, did I?"

"As much as you'd like that, no. Seriously, what?"

"Damn. I need to know if you're still coming to that thing tomorrow with those people."

Abby frowned. "The thing with the people from the b--"

"The other ones."

"Oh! Merde, Tony, I don't have a date. You bailed on me, remember."

"Of course you have a date, silly. It starts at nine."

"It's a birthday, right?"

"Think so. I'll buy a bottle of something ridiculously alcoholic and you can pay me back your half later. You have a bow or ribbon or something?"

"Uh huh."

"Good. I'll call you tomorrow."

"You weren't serious about--"

"She worships the ground you walk on. I've gotta go, Gibbs let me out and there's a very hot blonde waiting for me back at our table." He snickered. "I'm getting laid tonight."

"At least one of us is. Now grow up about fifteen years and check your tie."

"What?"

"Made you look."

"And you say I need to grow up."

"I'm busy. I'm hanging up."

"Fickle."

She hung up and turned to Ziva. "You're busy tomorrow night."

Ziva glanced up. "No, I don't think I am."

Abby shook her head. "Not a question. You are."

Ziva blew out a breath. "Ok then." Abby grinned, and mentally high-fived herself.

"Perfect."


	6. Chapter 6

Warning: Probably the biggest clichés _EVAR_ in this chapter. I'm aware they're there, and I'm sorry.

Chapter Six

By ten that night Ziva had succeeded in quashing Abby's clubbing plans, pleading exhaustion. The credits were scrolling across the screen, the movie having just ended and Ziva could hear Abby humming to herself under the clatter of dishes in the kitchen. She yawned, and slowly pushed herself to her feet, stopping the DVD and ejecting it. Entering the kitchen, she found Abby scraping the last of their dinner into the trash.

"I can clean up, Abby."

The Goth shrugged. "Don't worry about it, I'm good."

Ziva shifted awkwardly. "Thank you for dinner. And--" She tried to phrase her words properly.

Abby turned to face her, smiling. "Hey, it's all good. I'm just glad I can help."

Ziva nodded. "It was very kind of you." The awkwardness was practically tangible, hanging in the air around them.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Abby said finally. Ziva nodded.

"I'll walk you to your car."

Abby laughed. "I can take care of myself, I'm a big girl."

"Humor me." The idea of Abby wandering the darkened parking lot alone did not sit well with Ziva in the slightest. Abby blew out a breath.

"Oooookay."

Ziva watched her as she laced herself into the high leather boots and slid the long black jacket over her arms, drawing it close around herself. Scooping up her bags, Abby swung open the door and stepped out into the hall.

They descended the stairs in silence, and exited into the parking lot. Abby's hearse was at the far end of the lot, and Ziva rolled her eyes in the darkness.

"Not to cast doubt on your ability to defend yourself," she began, carefully.

Abby cut her off. "I've heard it a million times before."

Abby unlocked the door, and smiled at Ziva. "There. Your 'knight in shining armor' duties have been observed. I'll see you tomorrow, seven-thirty."

And without any warning, Ziva found herself enveloped in a flurry of black lace and rose perfume. Strong arms closed around her briefly, crushing her tightly before Abby stepped back from the hug, and slipped quickly into her car. She waved and slammed the door. Ziva blinked rapidly, her mind trying to catch up with the events that had just passed. Abby was a physically affectionate person. She had seen her displays with Gibbs and McGee and anyone else she considered a friend, and therefore it should not surprise her that Abby had done something similar. She shook her head, laughing at herself for dwelling on it. She could see Abby fiddling with something in her car, and waited for the engine to come to life. ...and waited. And then waited a little longer. Finally, the door opened, and Abby stuck her head out."

"You can go, Ziva, this piece of shit is being stubborn. I'm gonna have to call somebody for a ride." She was already dialing her cell. Ziva frowned, and did not move. Abby tapped her fingers on the side of the door impatiently, waiting for whoever she was calling to pick up.

"Hi! My car broke down. What're you doing? ... Yes. ... Very nice, very nice. ... At Ziva's still. ... Yeah, I wish. ... Pretty much. ... Anyway! Can you pretty please come get me? ... No. ... Yeah, but... ... No! Tony! ... That's so mean! ... I fucking hate you. ... Yeah, yeah. I'm-- ... No! I'm hanging up now." She snapped her phone shut, sighing dramatically. "Ok, who else loves me enough to rescue me?"

Ziva held up a hand. "Abby, you can stay here tonight. It's fine."

Abby seemingly choked on air, and swore under her breath, ostensibly at Tony. Ziva frowned. "I'm sure I can find a ride. I really don't want to impose."

Ziva shook her head in amazement. Abby had just completely taken over her apartment and planned her next evening's activities without a single ounce of input from Ziva herself, and now she was worrying about being an imposition. "Don't argue, Abby. It's late, it's cold out and your car is broken. It only makes sense for you to spend the night."

Abby slipped out of the vehicle, closing and locking the doors. "Fine. Be a good person, why don't you."

Ziva shrugged. "Apparently it's something I should work on."

Abby snorted. "That's a lie."

Ziva didn't respond. They returned to the apartment in much the same silence as they had left it in.

XXX

Ziva was running for her life. She was recently eighteen, just beginning her serious work for Mossad. Somewhere behind her she could hear the screams of her sister, but she tuned them out, focusing on her own laboured breathing. She could see the truck idling only twenty yards away, her father and brother waiting inside, calling to her to be faster, not to give up. She put on an extra burst of speed and was almost upon the vehicle when she saw something hurtling through the air directly toward the cab of the truck. She dropped to the ground automatically, screaming for her father and brother to get out, to get away from the doomed vehicle.

A brilliant flash of light, and a thundering boom resounded through her skull. She felt the heat flash, could almost feel her skin blackening. She looked up. Slowly, like a bowling ball losing momentum, her brother's head rolled towards her, gray matter and blood dripping from the spot where it should have connected to his neck. "You killed me!" He groaned. "My little sister-You've killed me." The head picked up speed, coming to rest directly in front of her, sightless, dead eyes staring straight into hers.

She couldn't speak, could barely breathe. Slowly, the face changed to that of Gibbs. "You failed, Officer David. You weren't good enough. I tried to teach you, but you never listened."

Another, slightly dimmer flash of light, and the head exploded, bits of gleaming white bone and crimson blood droplets scattering everywhere.

Ziva woke up. Something was restraining her. She kicked out, trying to fight off whatever unseen assailant had managed to come upon her in her sleep.

"Ziva! Stop it!" The voice registered after only a second, and she stopped fighting, frowning.

"Abby, what are you doing in my bed?"

"You were having a nightmare. I was kind of worried you were gonna hurt yourself, so..."

Ziva shifted, and Abby's grip on her was immediately released. It had only been after much arguing and polite offers that Abby had convinced Ziva to take the bed. Using the fact that Abby had already kicked her out of her bed once that week and the fact that Abby was the one who got herself into the mess - Ziva still wasn't quite sure how that had worked - Abby had taken the couch.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Ziva said into the darkness. "I'm fine."

Abby laughed dryly from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Sure you are. You were screaming. Generally that's not a sound associated with being fine."

Ziva frowned. She hadn't been aware that she made noise when she dreamt -- no one had ever mentioned it before. It was a fact that concerned her greatly. She'd gotten used to the nightmares, taking them into stride and waking from them to pretend that they didn't happen. Abby touched her shoulder lightly.

"How often do you have nightmares?"

Ziva drew the blanket higher over her head, entertaining a small childish impulse to hide away from the world. "Abby, it was nothing. Go back to bed."

Abby sighed. "Fine, fine. Be all irritating about it." The bed shifted as the other woman rose to her feet, and a moment later Ziva heard the door close.

The nightmares had started two nights after that night in Gibbs' basement when she'd killed Ari. The shock of her actions had taken a while to settle in, to strike her with the force of the realization that she'd killed her own brother -- the laughing ten-year-old sitting at a table with ice-cream all over his face; the serious thirteen-year-old who had spent hours with their father, listening as he explained his future purpose; the seventeen-year-old who stood up for his younger sister when that same father treated her like dirt; the skilled agent whom she'd been proud to work with. She had killed her own brother and the idea had made her sick. It still did, though now she had gotten past her grief and moved on to self-recrimination -- she had killed before and it was her duty as a Mossad Officer to perform her job to the best of her abilities. She should not harbour regret over dealing with a traitor.

She had no desire to wake Abby again with her apparent verbalizations of her inner demons, so she flicked on the bedside lamp and pulled a book from the shelf. The red digits of the alarm clock blinked an accusing 01:30. It didn't matter, the next day was a Saturday. It was a good book, mailed to her from a friend back home and she quickly got lost in the story, forgetting about her troubled sleep and the guest in her apartment quickly. At 03:00 the door cracked open. Ziva's entire body tensed, and she casually slid her hand toward her gun where it sat on the table beside the bed. She relaxed as soon as Abby poked her head in.

"What the fuck, Ziva?" Abby demanded sleepily.

"What's wrong?" Ziva asked.

Abby entered the room fully, closing the door behind her. "It's three o'clock in the morning. Normal people sleep. Normal people _need_ sleep."

"Hypocrite," Ziva muttered under her breath. Abby ignored her, walking across the room and sprawling down on the bed beside Ziva. Snatching away the book, Abby tossed it at the shelf, missing and letting it fall to the floor. She reached over a startled Ziva, flipped off the lamp, and pulled the blanket over her. A strong grip pulled Ziva down until she was lying beside the Goth.

"Go to sleep," Abby muttered, voice slightly muffled by the pillow. Ziva sighed and began to get up.

"I'll just--"

Abby hissed out a frustrated breath. "What part of go to sleep don't you fucking understand?" Abby's arm draped itself across Ziva, tightening, and her leg fell partly over Ziva's, effectively pinning her in place. If she had truly wanted to, Ziva could have broken the hold. Thus she wasn't entirely sure why she was still lying there, pressed against Abby, sharing a bed in the dark. She could hear her father, her Rabbi, her family screaming at her in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out their condemnation.

"Relax, sweetheart," Abby murmured close to her ear. "Nothing's happening. You're ok. Just breathe."

The endearment made Ziva's heart skip a beat. She lay perfectly still, pretending to be dead. If she were dead, she wouldn't have to deal with this.

Abby's breath lifted a few strands of her hair, sending shivers up and down her spine. Ziva found herself matching her breathing patterns to the other's. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Slowly, one muscle at a time, she began to deliberately relax her body until all the tension had drained away from her.

She woke up hours later from a dreamless sleep to find the spot beside her in the bed empty and the sheets cold. There was a note taped to the front of her refrigerator.

_Z:_

_Got a ride home, didn't want to wake you up. Coffee's made. Thanks for the hospitality. See you tonight, seven sharp._

_A_

Ziva studied the note, written in professionally scientific handwriting, the script of one who worked in a field where clarity and precision were key concepts. She wandered over to the coffee pot which was, in fact, full. It was already seven AM, and Ziva took her coffee into the bedroom with her while she changed into running clothes. Grabbing her cell phone and gun from the bedside table, she found her mind replaying the previous night's events. It was becoming increasingly apparent that the tables had been turned on her -- she had started out wanting to take care of Abby and now it appeared that Abby was taking care of her. While the lab tech's concern was unfounded and her actions unnecessary, Ziva was touched by the gestures and the emotion behind them.

The air was chilled and the paths filled with people. She returned polite greetings with her fellow joggers and tried not to think about Abby. Of course, when she didn't think about Abby, she began thinking about Jen, and her own guilt over not being able to explain to Gibbs what was going on. It was a concerning state of affairs, and if the experimentation produced positive results... She didn't want to think about that.

She got back to her apartment in less time than usual, her frustration with her life turning to adrenaline. She showered and dressed, deciding to walk to the café near her building for breakfast instead of remaining in her apartment.

The morning was chilly, leaves crunching underfoot on the sidewalk as she strolled at a leisurely pace towards the end of the street. A brisk wind kept her company, and everything around her was painted in a dull gray or brown. Inside the café it wasn't much warmer, and she wrapped her hands around her coffee mug tightly, trying to absorb its warmth through her fingertips and the palms of her hands.

The waitress that served her was tall and skinny, with dazzling green eyes that sparkled when she laughed. Ziva did not flirt with her in the same way that she didn't compare her to Abby constantly. Cars rushed by outside of the window, tossing up dust in their wake and she tried to focus on anything but falling asleep firmly held in the arms of a woman whom, no more than three weeks before she had thought hated her. The waitress dropped off her bill and Ziva avoided her eyes.

Her cell rang almost as soon as she stepped outside. It was Jenny's number. Calmly, Ziva tucked the phone back into her pocket and continued walking. Five minutes later, it rang again. This time, she didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Hi!" Abby's cheerful greeting startled her. "Where are you?"

Ziva blinked. "Hi, Abby. I'm walking to my apartment, why?"

"Uh—" There was shouting on the other end of the phone, and Abby laughed. "What're you doing today?"

"I'm not sure," Ziva frowned in confusion at the phone.

"Okay, I'm gonna stop by to pick you up a little early tonight. Probably around – shut up, I'm on the phone! – sorry, around six. Kay?"

"That's fine. What should I wear?"

"I'll find you something when I get there."

"And why did you want to know where I am and what I'm doing today?" Ziva asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"No reason. Just curious." Abby's voice held no hint of deception, just a casual offhandedness that made it clear that there had been no ulterior motive aside from the Goth's own inquisitiveness.

"I've got another call coming in," Ziva said suddenly, glaring at her phone. "I'll talk to you later."

"Who is it?" Abby asked. Loud music began playing in the background.

"Uh, The Director," Ziva replied, uncertain why it mattered.

"Kay, I'll see you later," Abby yelled over the music, and hung up. Ziva shrugged at the other's strangeness, and accepted the call from Jen.

"Ziva. I tried to call you a few minutes ago and you didn't pick up. Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine, Jen. I guess I didn't hear my phone." It was a blatant lie and they both knew it, but the director had the good grace not to bring attention to this fact. Ziva found herself imagining Abby's reaction to such an obvious deception, and shook her head. The Goth would never let her get away with a lie – or anyone, for that matter.

"Is now a good time?" Jen asked.

Ziva sighed. "As good a time as there's going to be."

"The FBI want to talk to you about the crime scene. Preferably before tonight."

"I can assure you that I recorded everything relevant to the scene in my report, and if I didn't, Gibbs, Tony and McGee certainly did."

"Yes, but at the time you were looking for a murderer. Now, things have changed a little."

"I don't see how—"

"Please, Ziva, just humour them?" Jenny's voice had taken on the gently coaxing tone that Ziva had, in former years found calming and convincing. Now it merely made her feel patronized.

"Fine, Jen. I'll be there in an hour."

"They do want it as soon as possible," the director let the sentence trail off.

"An hour, director. No sooner. I'll see you then." Ziva snapped her phone shut, glaring at it venomously. By the time she arrived back at her apartment, her mind had wandered to what Abby would pick out of her closet to wear that night.


	7. Chapter 7

One-Upmanship

By: Thought

Disclaimer: Not mine, no sue please.

A/N: Um. So I could give a bunch of excuses for why this hasn't been updated in a year, but I doubt you want to hear them. They're not all that good, and mostly consist of zomg school is kicking my ass, and the fact that I'm not really sure where I'm going with this story anymore. That being said, I do hope to finish this at one point, and will attempt to be a great deal better with the whole updating thing.

Chapter Seven

In which Abby and Tony discuss relationships, and Abby is protective.

She could practically see the curiosity hanging around Tony's head in a cloud when he picked her up from Ziva's that morning. As soon as she was settled in the passenger side of the Mustang and they were pulling away from the apartment building he turned off the music and sent a quick smirk her way. "So?"

She leaned back, folded her hands in front of her and effected her best innocent angel expression. "So what?"

"So spill all the gory details of what's been pissing off Ziva. Then spill all the wonderful details of how you made it all better. _All_ the details, with as much clarity as you can manage."

"Go to hell." She giggled. "There was no sex, I already told you that."

"I didn't believe you," he defended himself.

"Starbucks?" she asked, hopefully.

"You have a serious problem, Abby."

"Gibbs--"

"Is special."

"Are you saying I'm not special?" She pouted at him.

"Yes. Of course. You're a unique snowflake."

She leaned back in her seat, satisfied. "Damn straight. Anyway. All I could get out of her was that there's something the Director is making her keep secret from Gibbs, and she's having moral issues with it."

"Must be big if she's letting it show so much around Gibbs," Tony pondered.

"Or she's hoping he'll notice and confront her," Abby suggested.

"She should've figured out by now that Gibbs doesn't do warm fuzzy emotional moments. Are you buying?"

"Yeah, sure. Maybe she's subconsciously expecting Madam Director to realize what a toll keeping the secret is taking on her and let up about telling Gibbs?"

"Or it could be something so important that it actually bothers her enough to interfere with her work."

Abby frowned. "Did you know she has nightmares?"

"Yeah. When we had to go undercover at that hotel she barely slept. You heard the thing about the snoring, right? She was faking it. Probably specifically to irritate me and make it impossible for me to sleep. I didn't tell her I knew, I didn't want to embarrass her about whatever reason she didn't want to sleep with me-not like that."

"Yeah. She had one last night, sounded pretty bad. I… may have pretty much invaded her bed so I could try and get her to go back to sleep."

"That's simultaneously sickeningly sweet and disturbingly naughty of you," he commented dryly. She sighed, adopting a hurt expression.

"You doubt my motives were anything but pure?!"

"She didn't kill you. Maybe you've got a chance." Abby curled up in her seat, boots wedged against the side of the door.

"I told you I got her to come tonight, right?"

"This is the part where I avoid the many witty and inappropriate responses I've got for that."

She sighed. "How about you congratulate me on my ability to make a Mosad assassin do what I tell her to?"

"Your ego's doing quite fine on its own, actually. But thanks all the same."

"Fine, fine. Just sit over there, fantasizing about Ziva and I… apparently it's all you're good for…"

"Okay." Tony nodded amiably.

A moment passed in silence.

"Tony? …Tony. Tony _watch!"_

"_Fuck!_" The car swerved, just avoiding the truck barreling down on them, going the wrong way on a one way street. Abby blew out a sharp breath, glaring first at the truck, then once it had vanished from sight, at Tony.

"Jesus Christ. Was he drunk?"

Tony appeared shaken. "I don't know. Thanks, Abs."

"Starbucks," she pointed a couple minutes later.

"Very good, you can read."

"I need the caffeine. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"There're only so many sex jokes I can make, Abs."

"Are we driving together tonight?"

He pulled around to the drive through. "Sure. But you should pick me up."

"Obviously. I'm not riding in the back seat of this thing."

He ordered coffee and food for them both, and she remained silent as he drove forward and paid. "She's not going to go all Emo because I didn't stay this morning, is she?"

Tony snorted. "End that train of thought right there. She's probably glad she doesn't have to face you after whatever happened between you guys last night."

Abby nodded, picking at the corner of the paper bag. "So what were you doing last night that prevented you from coming to rescue me?"

"You did _not_ need rescuing; don't even pretend otherwise. I was trying to score with a stunning brunette named Veronica." The name rolled off of his tongue with particular relish. Abby rolled her eyes.

"You should try commitment sometime, Tony. It's fun."

He held up a hand. "Tell me that when you've been in a relationship for more than three months."

"I was!"

"Once."

"Yes, but that was a big one. We were engaged and everything."

"You were also in your first year of college, and it didn't exactly end up all flowers and bunnies and rainbows, now did it?"

She flinched. "I'd rather not talk about that."

"Sorry, sorry. I know. But you get what I'm saying about commitment?"

"There's a difference between not committing and fucking a different woman every night."

"I like to explore my options. And they know what's going on, I'm not breaking any hearts."

"Keep telling yourself that. One day you'll believe it."

They didn't speak again until he dropped her outside of her building, and then only the minimum amount of words necessary for her to thank him for the ride.

XXX

When Ziva opened the door to Abby that evening the Goth's first reaction was the urge to kill whoever had put the look of utter defeat on the other woman's face. Apparently Gibbs was rubbing off on her – not exactly a bad thing, in her opinion.

"What happened?"

Ziva glared at the door frame. "Nothing. It's that obvious?"

Abby stared at her. "Telling me nothing happened and then asking if it's obvious that you're depressed? Totally contradicts itself. It was the Director, wasn't it?"

She brushed past Ziva into the apartment, throwing her jacket at the closet and missing. Ziva closed the door, leaning against it, hands folded in front of her. "Please, come in. Please, assume that my best friend is responsible for my depression which doesn't exist. …Please, influence my speech patterns."

Abby snatched her hands, walking backwards as she dragged her toward the bedroom. "I'm good at invading your apartment. It's a skill, I need to cultivate it. And I don't know why you're defending her. And… you totally are depressed and it's not my fault I'm so infectious."

"Are you planning to have your wicked way with me?" Ziva asked, jerking her head toward the bedroom.

Abby nodded immediately. "Obviously."

Her phone vibrated against her hip. She pulled it out, simultaneously pushing Ziva into the room. "What, Tony?"

"Are you at Ziva's?" he asked.

"Yeah. Having my wicked way with her and playing councilor. Where are you?"

She walked over to the closet, beginning to rifle through Ziva's clothes as she listened. "Having a crisis of faith."

"Blue shirt, black leather jacket."

"That's actually scary."

She through a black skirt at the bed behind her, and glanced back at Ziva. "Strip."

On the other end of the line, Tony choked on something and spent a few seconds coughing up a lung. "What the hell are you doing to her?"

"Picking out her clothes. Jesus, Tony, would you stop thinking about sex for ten seconds?"

"Kind of hard with you around."

She grinned. "Really? I'm flattered."

"And people say I'm the king of sexual innuendo."

"You walked into that one."

"I accept that. When will you be here?"

She glanced at her watch. "Give us twenty minutes to get her ready, then another fifteen to get over there."

"Alright. I'm sure Ashley and I can keep ourselves entertained in the interim."

"You know her name? I'm impressed."

"One day I'm going to snap under all the abuse you people put me through. I think it's important that I warn you of that now."

"I'll come visit you every day in the loony bin."

"You'd better. And it'd be even better if you could wear a nurse's uniform."

"I've actually got one, you know."

"I do know."

"Oh."

"McGee and I bonded. It was good."

"Oh my God."

"We'll discuss this later, Amber's just arrived."

"I thought you said—"

"Bye, Abs."

She flipped her phone shut and took her armful of clothes back over to the bed where Ziva stood, wrapped in a robe. Abby grinned. "Good girl. Now, black and green or black and white?"

"It was the Director," Ziva said instead. Abby picked up the black skirt and pushed it into her hands.

"Yeah. What'd she do?"

"Nothing I can tell you about."

"Can you tell Gibbs?"

Ziva zipped the skirt and Abby handed her a green shirt with a neckline that bordered on indecent. "Of course not."

"I really hate all the secret "need to know" government bull. Gibbs is God and therefore if Madam Director is splitting your loyalties and compromising your effectiveness, he should know."

Ziva blinked, and stared at her. Abby shifted, getting defensive. "What? I can be professional. And Gibbs so is God, you know it."

Ziva shrugged and turned away, inspecting herself in the mirror. Abby delved into her bag with one hand, holding up the other. "Hang on, hang on." She came up holding a pair of black fishnets and a thick silver chain. "You could've picked this out on your own. I told you I'd help you get ready so I could add my own touches."

"I don't think—"

"And I don't care. You said I could dress you up." Abby allowed her bottom lip to extend in a tiny pout, knowing that Ziva could see it in their reflection.

"I assume it will be appropriate for where we are going?"

Abby nodded. "Relatively. Not conspicuous, at least."

"Tony is going to have a field day with this," Ziva sighed, but she reached back for the stockings nonetheless. Abby grinned to herself.

"So what're you going to do about her?" the Goth asked. Ziva straightened, shaking her head.

"It's not my place to question a superior, Abby. I'll do exactly what she wants me to do."

Abby stepped in close behind her, looping the chain around her neck and brushing her hair aside to fasten the clasp. "Has Gibbs taught you nothing? Question authority! Break rules! Remember, it's always easier to ask forgiveness than permission."

Ziva shook her head again. "She's not only my superior, she's also my friend. I would be breaking that trust."

"Yeah. She seems like a fantastic friend, alright."

"I'd rather not talk about this right now," Ziva snapped, walking away to the night table to retrieve her hair brush. Abby set about returning the alternate clothing options to the closet, taking the time to get her frustration back under control. If Ziva wanted to make stupid choices, then she could damn well make stupid choices. It wasn't like she wasn't an adult, and nor was Abby an expert on making the right choice. When she turned back Ziva was lining her eyes in heavy black, and Abby nodded approvingly.

"Awesome. We're picking up Tony and his date --whose name remains a mystery—on our way. Do you have any particular need to come back here tonight?"

Ziva glanced at her, surprised. "No."

"You may as well stay at my place afterwards, then. It's closer, less driving. So… it makes more sense for you to do that. And I've crashed here twice now so I figure it's about time I returned the favour. Assuming that you want to come, that is, and if you don't that's totally cool and I'm not saying that I'm not willing to drive you back here. Because I am, really, it'd be no trouble at all—"

Ziva cut her off, warm fingers brushing across her painted lips, barely touching but bringing a stop to her babble immediately. Ziva's hand dropped away, and she smiled reassuringly at the taller woman. "I will stay with you, Abby."

Abby nodded, feeling her cheeks heat up and her lips tingle from the contact. "Right. Good. Well, I'm just gonna… leave you to finish getting ready, now. You have boots, right?"

Ziva frowned. "I'd prefer something a little more practical."

Abby shook her head, glad to be back on solid ground. "Practical is boring. We're going out to have fun."

Ziva acquiesced far more easily than Abby expected, pulling out a pair of elegant black boots, butter soft leather and spike heels. Abby licked her lips when the other woman walked out of the bedroom, lips coloured a deep shade of red, hips forced to move in a sway by the heels. "You look stunning, sweetheart." Abby knew that her accent was slipping through but she didn't care, not with the other woman standing before her looking like sex on legs.

"This will do?" Ziva asked.

Abby inclined her head. "I'll be the envy of all my friends."

"You planning to put me on a leash, then?" Ziva teased. Abby swore mentally. It figured that, out of all the music Abby listened to and tended to quote, she would know that particular song.

"Kinky."

They left after an argument about the need for a jacket with Ziva's revealing shirt (which Abby won) and another regarding the need for Ziva to bring her gun, which she lost. By the time they got to Tony's, Abby wasn't sure it was such a good idea for Ziva to return to her apartment after all. Her evening was going to be torturous enough without adding the temptation of the Israeli right there in her home all night.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Dude, I updated in less than six months. There's a record in there somewhere. Thank you all so much for the reviews! Now you should all go poke Prin69 into writing something. Because she hasn't for over a year and it's really tragic.

XXX

Chapter Eight

In which the plot actually goes somewhere

"Where's your gun?" Tony asked as soon as he opened the door on Ziva, eyes sweeping down her body appreciatively. She flipped him off.

"That's for me to know."

"And me to find out?" he asked promptly.

"I thought you had a date, Tony."

"I do. Anna. She's fixing her hair. We got bored waiting for you guys, had to entertain ourselves. Abs in the car?"

"Your mental age really is that of a teenager, isn't it?"

"Why were you looking at my personnel file?"

"Just getting to know my coworkers. Really, though, yours was no real surprise."

The click of kitten heels on tile interrupted the conversation, and a tall, leggy blonde draped herself over Tony. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Tony smirked. "Anna? This is Ziva, my partner—_work_ partner. Ziva, Anna."

"A pleasure," Ziva deadpanned, and did not hold out her hand. Anna didn't seem to notice. "Shall we go?"

On their way down the stairs Tony leaned over to mutter in Ziva's ear. "You brought your car, didn't you?"

She shook her head.

"Damn it."

"Not sure Anna can handle the Hearse?" she queried mockingly.

"It's always a little awkward."

Anna's reaction to the car was about what Tony had warned of. She drew back when he opened the back door for her, looking as if he were offering a dead cat. "We're riding in… This is a Hearse, Tony! I thought you said we were just going to a birthday party."

"It's my friend's. She's a little eccentric, that's all. Nothing to be worried about. There were never any actual dead bodies in it." Ziva's eyebrows shot up. Tony glared at her. Grinning, she slipped into the passenger seat. Abby was watching the mini-drama happening outside the car with a wicked grin and a sparkle in her eyes.

"It always gets the new ones."

"You enjoy their suffering."

The older woman nodded happily. "Absolutely. Tony looks hot tonight, doesn't he?"

Ziva blinked. "I suppose."

The second couple finally got into the back, and Tony leaned forward. "Abby? This is Anna. Anna, my best friend, Abby."

"Your car…" Anna began.

"Isn't it awesome?" Abby cut in, perky oblivious mode turned to its highest.

"Uh…"

"I got it like six years ago from a funeral home down in Pittsburg. The director is my cousin's husband's uncle, and he let me have it for five hundred dollars because they were getting a whole new set. I did the restoration myself. It doesn't always run well, but don't worry, if we get stranded we can always take the bus."

"…I've never been on a bus before," Anna's voice was very high. "So they… the funeral home _used_ this car? For bodies?"

"Sure," Abby agreed. "It's kind of nice, knowing that there's all those spirits that left their impression on the car. It's like I'm never alone, you know?"

Ziva stared at her. Anna breathed out a little non-committal sound and Ziva saw her clasp Tony's hand out of the corner of her eye. Abby glanced over at Ziva. Ziva's eyebrows crept up her forehead. Abby smiled guilelessly.

"So!" Tony cleared his throat. "Anyone else see the game last night?"

Silence was his only response. He fell back, shrugging. "Huh. Me neither. I was busy with much more _important_ things."

Anna giggled like a thirteen-year-old girl. Ziva clenched her fists.

"Oh? Tony, I thought you said your date was with a brunette?" Abby asked, still innocent and as sweet as poisoned pie.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Abby," Tony replied evenly. Abby shrugged, and reached forward to the radio, filling the car with loud rock music. The rest of the drive lacked conversation. The club where the birthday was being held was not what Ziva had been expecting. It wasn't in the best part of town, and the windows were grimy and covered in old advertisements. The inside, however, was warm and relatively clean, Smokey jazz playing just loud enough that it couldn't be considered background music. Abby half danced, half ran to the far corner, throwing her arms around the young man in the centre of a crowd of people. Tony snorted. "She hasn't seen him in three months. I bet she doesn't even know his last name."

"Are you sure?" Anna asked. "She seems pretty friendly with him."

Tony shook his head. "She's like that with anyone she likes. She'll bestow affection on anyone she thinks will accept it, it doesn't mean she wants to be their best friend."

Ziva didn't outwardly flinch, but his words cut with a dangerous precision into the fragile bubble of hope that the last week with Abby had formed. She trailed after Tony and Anna as they took the same path that Abby had taken (though at a more reasonable pace) to greet the red haired young man and wish him happy birthday. Abby was already distracted by a pair of men, one in expensive looking dress pants and a silk shirt, the other in jeans and cotton and covered in tattoos. They were signing rapidly, Abby bouncing as her hands moved. Ziva smiled as Tony introduced her, then excused herself to go get a drink.

"You look like you just lost your best friend," the bartender observed, sliding the glass across the scarred wood toward her.

She shrugged. "Something like that."

"Sorry to hear that." He moved off to serve another person, and Ziva lifted the glass, amber liquid catching the light and reflecting it back at her. A pair of hands landed on her shoulders, and she went rigid, dropping the glass to the bar top, its contents sloshing over the sides.

"Hey, hey. Just me." Abby spoke as if soothing a frightened animal but Ziva could detect the hint of amusement lacing the words. She remained tense, only turning her head to meet the other woman's gaze.

"What is it?"

Abby's hands slid down her arms, coming to rest atop her own on the wood in front of them. "You looked dejected."

Ziva frowned. The fact that first the bartender, then Abby had noticed her state was not one that made her feel particularly confident in her own ability to maintain a mask. She didn't mention this, instead choosing to get a different answer. "I thought you were busy with your friends?"

Abby's hands tightened on hers, pressing them into the bar. "Z, what's up?"

"Nothing. I am fine. Are you going to get a drink?"

Abby withdrew, moving to stand beside Ziva. "Yeah."

Once her order was filled, the two made their way back to the larger group where Tony had everyone enthralled with the story of one of their recent cases. Abby rolled her eyes, but joined in, embellishing where Tony left things out and correcting his weak attempts to skim over the scientific aspects. Ziva melted into the back of her chair.

The music was warm and inviting, coaxing and playful, and when a man with soft eyes and a voice like melted chocolate asked her, shyly, to dance, she was all too happy to leave Abby's torturous presence and be swept up in the atmosphere of the club. His name, she discovered while they danced, was Jacob. He taught philosophy at a college on the outskirts of the city, and played piano. He was trained in marshal arts, and spent every Saturday morning with his niece at the shooting range.

"You're a man of many talents, yes?" she murmured, offering a genuine smile. He returned it, dipping her to the music.

"I just do what I love. I suppose it just happens that I love a variety of things. But I'm also not one who loves easily. I guess that's why I haven't found someone to share my life with yet."

"I can understand that. You are waiting for the right woman."

He nodded. "Exactly. And I think, when she comes along, I'll know. I'm happy with my family and my friends, I don't need to push for anything else until I feel like it can be reciprocated. I feel sorry for the people who are so terrified that they have no one it turns them into someone who will do whatever they can to feel as if someone cares for them."

"Don't you think they should know that to love someone makes them weaker? If that love is spread so thinly, they certainly aren't capable of true, meaningful love."

He shook his head. "They're so scared of waking up one day alone, that they try to give themselves fully to as many people as they can, looking for reassurance and security. My mother was like that, before she met my step-father. She had endless parades of men, a new one every week. But my step-dad was different. He didn't push her away when he saw her interactions with other people, he just made it a point to always be there for her when she needed a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on, or when she was happy and wanted someone to share the joy with. And after a while, she didn't need to worry so much about rejection. My mom still had a lot of friends, that was just the kind of person she was. But she was a lot happier… and I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I'm sorry, you must think I'm a total moron."

Ziva leaned up, kissing his cheek. "Not at all. I think you're a very fascinating man."

He smiled. "And you're a very mysterious woman. I'm about to be very cheesy, I should warn you. Can I buy you a drink?"

Before Ziva could answer she felt a light tug on her arm. "Hey," Abby said, smiling falsely at Jacob. "Mind if I steal her?"

Ziva stared at Abby, surprised and a little angry. Yet she didn't make a move to stop her as she pulled her arm from around his shoulder and intertwined their fingers. Jacob's smile became sad, but he squeezed the hand that he held before releasing her. "Only if you promise to take good care of her," he replied to Abby, his tone light and teasing.

She shrugged. "I try."

Ziva watched Jacob go, wanting very much to catch him and kiss the sadness from his face. Abby's hand in hers was cool and soft, her nails resting against the skin of the back of Ziva's hand.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I interrupted anything," Abby said, tilting her head. Ziva could tell that the words, while offered in an apologetic tone, held no sincerity behind them.

"It's fine."

"Good. I… I think we need to talk. Like, in private. Like, outside or something. If that's okay? Because I thought we were, you know, doing the whole friend thing now, and then all of a sudden you're practically ignoring me and then you go off with some guy, and I'm a little confused."

Ziva felt the urge to demand of Abby if they were really friends at all. Another conflicting part of her wanted to demand if they were more than friends. "Friends?" she asked, leaving it open for interpretation.

Abby's breath hitched, her hand tugging on Ziva's to draw her closer. "Fuck. I think I'm gonna kiss you now, if you have no objections."

Ziva's eyes widened. How had they gone from preparing to have a conversation to Abby being ready to kiss her in the middle of the dance floor? Tony's words replayed in her head, and she took a step away. Abby's face went even paler. Ziva held up a hand to forestall the babbled apologies that were sure to spill forth at any second.

"Abby, I'm not saying no, but I need to know that this is real for you. I'm not willing to enter into some sort of… what do Americans call it, friends with benefits?"

Abby's eyes closed for a brief moment. "If you think that's all we could be, then you haven't lived the same week that I have. Z, I'm not going to lie to you. I suck at relationships. But hey, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. And I'd like to try with you."

Ziva smiled. "I—" Her cell rang, shrill and harsh against the music and voices around them. She pulled it out, glancing down at the caller ID. Abby peaked over her shoulder.

"Jesus _Christ_."

Ziva made a shushing motion, flipping the phone open. "Hi, Jenny. It's a really bad time."

"Yes, it is," the Director replied. Ziva noted the stress in the other woman's voice.

"What's happened?"

"We've identified the scientist responsible for the overdose. He was one of the ones at the meeting this morning. The FBI has sent a team after him, but so far there's been no luck. We don't know what his next move will be, but every one who was there this morning may be at risk. You shouldn't go home tonight. Stay in a hotel, maybe. Or come here, to headquarters."

Ziva met Abby's eyes. "I've got a place to stay already. I won't be going home."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. "I see. Stay safe, Officer David."

"You too," Ziva murmured, but Jen had already hung up.

Abby frowned. "I think you need to explain to me what exactly is going on."

"I—"

"The Director didn't want you staying at home tonight, am I right?"

"She's simply being paranoid. The chances that I will be his target are minimal."

"Whoa, whoa. Whose target are you?" Tony appeared beside Abby, his cheerful smile turning to a look of concern, a bit of the professional lead agent slipping into his stance and tone. "Ziva? What's going on."

"She was just about to share what the Director's been keeping secret from us," Abby replied.

Ziva swore under her breath. She would have to think up something to keep them both satisfied, while not revealing the truth. It was not something she wished to do, but even she didn't believe that she could escape the FBI's wrath unscathed. "Can we do this somewhere a little more private?"

Tony nodded, and Abby rested a hand on the small of her back, as if the physical connection would keep her anchored and unable to flee from them. By the time they were sitting in Abby's car she still hadn't come up with anything.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Abby slid into the driver's seat, starting the car for heat. Tony had ditched his date and was in the back seat with Ziva, who hadn't spoken since they'd left the dance floor.

"So?" Tony settled back, body turned slightly in the seat so that he could watch Ziva. Abby twisted around in her own seat, resting her chin on the back. Ziva folded her hands in her lap, the picture of calm detachment.

"Abby, You had theorized that Director Shepard had instructed me to keep some information from Gibbs and the rest of you. This was true."

"Well duh." Abby rolled her eyes. Ziva's reaction had been as good as a confirmation. Tony's gaze flicked to her, reproachful.

"Let her talk, Abs."

"Sorry."

"The man who was killed in the case which was taken away from us was part of an under-cover government operation. CIA. The project was not one that they wanted publicized, and thus his part in it was kept hidden."

"And you knew about this, why?" Tony questioned.

"I overheard something that I should not have. Jenny filled me in after that." Abby did not make any of the twenty different remarks regarding the lack of professionalism that were dancing around in her head. Not even the Rule Twelve one.

She studied Ziva intently, but her gaze was frank and open, no hint of dissembling. "So what was that phone call about?"

"Nothing important. Just new information on his death."

"Sounds absolutely trivial," Tony agreed, deadpan. Ziva flinched minutely.

"And the reason that Jenny wanted to know where you're staying tonight?"

Ziva shrugged, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow at her. "I would think you would be familiar with the attitude of jealous ex-lovers."

"Jesus Christ."

Tony coughed, hands forming thumbs up. "I knew it!"

It was Abby's turn to shoot a reprimanding glare in his direction. "Seriously? Talk about obsessive. You should really deal with her."

Tony arched an eyebrow. "Because you can talk."

"Fuck you," she replied cheerfully. The conversation was frolicking off in directions that it really did not need to go if Abby intended on maintaining socially acceptable levels of irritation. And there were also definitely things that needed to be said when Tony was not in the car being all fucking perceptive and snarky. "We leaving?"

"Yeah."

"Sweet." She flopped back in her seat, shifting into gear. Behind her, Tony cleared his throat.

"So. You and Madam Director, huh?"

Ziva sighed. "Yes, Tony. And if you value your continued existence you will not ask anymore about it."

"You know, I really don't need to ask anything else. I have a *_very_* active imagination."

"You see what you unleashed?" Abby asked in a forced casual tone.

"You should be grateful. I've removed you from his fantasies for the moment."

Tony snorted. "What part of good imagination didn't you catch?"

"It's ok, it's mutual." Abby smirked to herself. "C'mon, Ziva, you can't tell me you've never daydreamed about Tony and Gibbs?"

"You have an obsession and it's not healthy," Tony informed her tartly.

"It's only an obsession because you two would be so much happier if you admitted it."

"Ziva'd have better luck. They could bond over the Director."

"He's too old for her," Abby responded immediately, letting a hint of jealousy slip into her voice.

"Wasn't too old for your endless fantasies," Tony shot back.

"I'm older than Ziva."

"By two years."

"Still older. Besides, she's taken."

"I am?" Ziva's voice was part amusement, part surprise.

For once in his life, Tony remained silent. Abby swallowed, her throat suddenly very dry. Ahead of her, the light changed and she focused her mind on the press of the accelerator under her foot and the rough plastic of the steering wheel under her palms. "Only," she said, speaking slowly, as if the words would shatter if they fell too fast from her lips, "If you want to be."

From behind her, there was silence. Her stomach began to churn uncomfortably, and her hold on the steering wheel became a death grip.

Tony coughed. Abby stared at the road. "This is... Sudden," Ziva said finally. Abby blew out a breath between her teeth.

"Yes. No, it's not. For Christ sake, what have we been doing for the last week? Ok, no, ok, don't answer that." She knew she was babbling and she didn't care. "A date. We'll go on a date-- go for dinner, see a movie. Tony, what movies are out?"

"Calm down, Abs," he said, amusement colouring his words.

"I'm calm, damn you."

"Abby, I just meant that you took me by surprise. There is usually a waiting period before anything is decided, yes? A length of time when the couple... Tests the waters?"

"Yes. Fantastic. We shall test the waters. Waters shall be tested. Well."

Tony sighed. "Your mouth is moving again. You should work on that."

"Can we have this conversation when Tony is not in the car?" Ziva asked. Abby blinked.

"Sure, I guess."

Ziva remained silent. Tony did not. "I'm hurt, Ziva. You don't think I can be quiet when I really have to be?"

"The only reason for your silence would be that you were distracted by a sexual fantasy," Ziva informed him dryly.

"That hurts. That really, really hurts me. Deep down in my heart and soul."

"There are other ways to keep him quiet, Zi. Ask Gibbs."

"Congratulations, Abby. You've just become the soul instigator of my future alcoholism."

"I try really hard."

The ride to Tony's apartment was completed in a silence that Abby was pretty sure should have been awkward. It may have been, she reflected, glancing back at Ziva where she sat, hands folded, back rigid, staring out the window. Tony leaned back in the door after he got out, looking seriously at Ziva. "I know you said there was nothing to worry about with this case, but be careful anyway, alright?"

She smiled in return. "I will, Tony."

Abby frowned and wondered if she was the only one who took Tony's warning to relate to more than just the case. She glared at his retreating form as he passed under a street light. Ziva, meanwhile, moved up to the passenger seat.

"So," Abby said as she pulled back into traffic. "Do you want me to drop you off at your place?"

"I'm still fine with staying at your place, Abby. Nothing has changed."

Abby bit down hard on her lip. "If by nothing you mean everything, sure."

"The only difference is that our feelings are out in the open instead of badly hidden."

Abby snorted. If that was Ziva's definition of no change, she'd be a little afraid to witness what constituted real change. "So you want to do the whole dating thing?"

"It doesn't have to be as formal as that. I do think that spending some time getting to know each other would be important, though we can still consider it a relationship. Merely not an extremely serious one as of yet."

A rush of relief overtook Abby's consciousness. "That sounds perfect. And it makes sense. Can I tell the Director? Please? Please please please?" Her hands left the wheel briefly to rub together in glee.

"No. Besides, I think she's already guessed."

"Oh. Ok, I'll just gloat in silence—wait, what? How did she know?"

"She's not as stupid as you think she is."

Abby tilted her head. "Really?"

Ziva rolled her eyes. Abby turned on the radio.

Ziva was silent for a while, and Abby was startled when she spoke again. "At the club... Tony said something that has been bothering me."

"Damn Tony," Abby replied mildly, leaning back in her seat.

"This relationship. You do truly want it, yes? It will not be the same sort of non-commitment that you had with McGee?"

"Tony told you about the McGee thing?"

"No. McGee did. Tony only commented that you are very affectionate with anyone you consider to be even an acquaintance."

Abby shrugged. "Yeah? Why, you the jealous type?"

Ziva didn't say anything for a moment. "Actually, I was curious about your feelings for me."

Abby winced. "Oh Ziva. Hey, it's the other things that are important. And I'm affectionate with people I'm close with, too. Gibbs, my brother, Tony..."

"That's reassuring, thank you." The other woman's words dripped with sarcasm.

"Ok, bad examples. ...Really bad examples, actually. That's not the point. Don't listen to Tony. It can only result in disaster. Anyway, don't be worried about that. I can assure you that my feelings are not simply the kind I'd have for an acquaintance. And, well, after Kate, I kind of woke up to the fact that people aren't guaranteed to be there forever. So no, I'm not going to reenact my McGee fiasco."

"Were you and Kate..." Ziva's words trailed off.

Abby laughed because she refused to cry. "No, no. Kate was a good little Catholic girl, straight as an arrow."

Ziva nodded. "It would have surprised me."

"Yeah. It could have never happened. Kate always considered herself a little bit too good for us. She never said anything outright; hell, she may have not consciously known that she felt that way. It made… any kind of relationship difficult."

"I am sorry."

Abby shrugged. "That was Kate, I guess."

By the time they got back to Abby's apartment she had stopped mentally hyperventilating and her hands were no longer shaking. She smiled at Ziva in the elevator. The younger woman linked her fingers with Abby's and squeezed. Abby grinned like an idiot.

"I never quite believed the stories of the coffin," Ziva called from Abby's guestroom as the Goth powered up her laptop.

"My God, there are _stories_?" Abby laughed. "I knew I was awesome, but I didn't know it was that hardcore."

"McGee."

Abby shook her head. "Oh. Get my hopes up, why don't you?"

"Did you have it custom made?" Ziva asked, wandering back into the living room.

"Uh huh." Abby opened her email, and was greeted with correspondence from Jennifer Shepard. "If this is a warning to stay away from her woman I think I'm going to stab her eyeballs out. And laugh while I do it."

Ziva set down the book she'd been looking at. "Excuse me?"

Abby giggled and opened the message. "A reminder that all NCIS employees are to conduct themselves with a level of professionalism appropriate to the agency which they re—oh my God, Ziva, she's trying to use Rule Twelve against me. Oh the opportunities she's presenting me with!"

Ziva turned away. "Don't' get yourself fired."

Abby nodded distractedly. Ziva vanished into the bedroom. After a brutally scathing reply had been composed and sent off, Abby cheerfully followed her.

Ziva was already under the blanket, sprawled out against the black sheets, hair fanning out around her head like a halo. Abby perched on the side of the bed and bounced a little. "That was fun."

"Are you done?"

"Yes. For now." Her hand darted out, twisting a lock of Ziva's hair around her finger. Ziva rolled her head towards her hand and Abby's long pale fingers curved around her cheek, cradling the other woman's face. "You're beautiful," Abby told her in a stunning display of situation-appropriate clichés.

Ziva's lips curved into a smile and Abby leaned down, claiming the other woman's mouth in a long, fierce kiss. Ziva's fingers tangled in Abby's hair. Abby tilted Ziva's face to an easier angle, bracing herself on the mattress with the other hand.

"We're really good at this whole taking it slow thing," Abby muttered teasingly, moving away from Ziva's lips to plant feather light kisses over her cheeks and forehead. Ziva tugged at Abby's hair, trying to direct her back to her mouth. Abby drew back, catching Ziva's hands in her own and placing kisses in each palm.

"When I suggested we take things slowly I was referring to the emotional aspect," Ziva retorted.

Abby stroked the soft skin at the inside of her wrists. "I know. But generally one waits before falling into bed with someone."

Ziva smirked. "Noone said anything about falling into bed. Let's consider this a test of our self-restraint."

Abby grinned mischievously. "Don't let Tony hear you talking like that."

"Inappropriate timing, Abby," Ziva laughed. Abby pulled the other woman's arms above her head, pressing her wrists into the pillow. She slid her hands down the length of Ziva's arms, reveling in the silky texture of her skin. Ziva moved to pull Abby down onto the bed, but the Goth shook her head and moved Ziva's arm back to its original position.

"Self-restraint, remember?"

The next morning, Abby awoke alone.


End file.
